A man and his woman, ignorant tourists, make a grand show of slobbering on one another all about Her Opulence. I size them up: loaded. Ignorant tourists.
They coo their names to one another in whispers I snatch with their coin.
My heart thumps bright when I pull back my hand and find platinum in my palm. I appropriate another from each. The man's purse was fattest.
Notably lightened, he yelps and they put their backs to shadowed walls -- an amateur tactic. Both of them half-hidden yammer on about my villainy. They are unable to find me, but promise vengeance.
They come out from against the wall to attempt search for my vantage point or else goad me from it with trite claims. I watch them calm from the cabin roof above, note their planned exit route. They come and go from hiding.
As they leave, I fumble down from the cabin roof but tighten my purse strings to muffle their new jingle.
Assuming their movements, I leap with a sharp and silent snap through the shadows down the Trade Road and into a prime spot to intercept when they pass.
I hear them trundling down the road. Snared. I slip my hand toward the male's purse again as he passes.
He runs by too quick! His thigh tensed hard midstride checks my wrist. Our eyes lock for a split second before he attends to stopping his gallop.
I'm already gone into the dark cast of a tree on the opposite side of the road.
I try to feel the light with my neck, unfamiliar with the dark shape of tree shade.
He's turned -- he looks for me. All the wrong spots begin to lead him to the right ones.
I wait. My muscles tic.
He goes again.
I stifle the sharp breath of the spark of laughter, remember my discipline sits, and once again follow him by the dark shoulders of the trade road.
It's a frenzied pace to keep with my mark and I must concentrate intently on the speed of my stalking.
I jerk my gaze up from a shadow as it hits me: the mud pits! But I've already landed in the middle of the road-turned-sinkhole with a sqqqqount and a floppy spray of the slimy clay-like stuff.
I've blundered. He begins a spell - Moon Mage! I see the whites of his woman's eyes slightly brighter - excited for her man's justice.
Thinking quick, I spring to my feet! Sharp! I smash a S'Kra-size wave out of the mud!, hide behind their averted gaze.
I tighten my breath.
They look around.
Did that really work? They're blind!
An exit waits beyond two shadows and a corner. I coil and spring again to leap through a passing shadow. I know his trigger finger is wiggle ready. I need the payload, can't risk getting dropped.
Then I land and my feet fail to find traction. I flail, slide on one heel and land flat on my backside. My thoughts are rattled. Entirely on instict, I crawl through mud into another dark spot.
He doesn't bother waiting - mentally defeated. My clumsy actions go unpunished.
I am by turns daft and deft.
I laugh, thinking I must have looked cute.
>2. You smirk to yourself, the way only a stylish Thief can.
