Heed the Words of Wounded Dogs

Chapter 4 - Becoming Keir

two weeks later

"Do you sell maps?" Ezryn asked, her hands firmly hooked around the stolen pouch of Rapson on her hip. It was mid-day on the outskirts of Thedo. Prime time for thieves and pick-pockets to rummage around the clothes of wealthy travelers in the market square. Ezryn would probably have been considered one had she not taken the chance to swipe the Rapson from a drunk gambling man she met in a bar. She did not like to steal, and she wouldn't have if it wasn't for Cyrus. He had a rather large stomach.

"We had a couple, but they sold out yesterday. You do know that there is a mapmaker in town, yes? He's on the second to last row of stalls behind me. His maps are pretty expensive, but he's the only good artist around." The seller pointed behind his back and gave her a small shrug. Ezryn sighed and thanked him.

A small girl, around eight or nine, slinked around Ezryn's back. She drew her shoulders in, making herself look smaller, and shuffled over to a tent with steaming loaves of bread, hot-cakes, and pastries filed neatly on a table out front. She then proceeded to grab two loaves of bread and make a run for it. However, a Thedoan soldier hidden in the crowd grabbed the back of her shirt and tossed her back towards the makeshift bakery. He yelled inside, and sharply pointed his finger at the girl to stay. Two people came shuffling out of the tent at the ruckus: an obnoxiously tall man and a stubby woman with curly blonde hair that stuck out in all directions. They frowned at the child. The man held out his hand for the loaves, but the young girl only clutched them closer to her chest. The other baker raised her hand above the girl and struck down at her, but the slap never reached the child. Instead, it hit Ezryn.

"...What? Who are you?"

"I'll speak for the child. We'll take both loaves and a hot-cake."

The bakers looked at each other and then back to Ezryn's open palm, which held five silver coins. After a moment of contemplation, they took the rapson and waved off the soldier. The woman handed her a hot-cake wrapped in paper, and avoided Ezryn's eyes. Ezryn could only assume that it was partly due to the guilt from hitting her, and due to her glare.

If it wasn't for the latter, Ezryn would appear only a scrawny teenage boy. The tar in her hair faded a long while ago, revealing her ash blonde color again. It was still short, ending at her jaw, and it was just as choppy as when she first cut it. A few strands fell over her eyes, but they did nothing to hide the intensity of her gaze. It had always been like that — smothering and heavy.

Ezryn turned towards the little girl and kneeled in front of her. The child stepped back in surprise and stared up at Ezryn with wide sea-green eyes.

"What's your name?"

"...Syera," she muttered, burrowing her face behind the bread. Her eyes drifted over Ezryn's bright red cheek.

"Well, Syera, the bread is yours."

"But..."

"But what?" Ezryn tilted her head.

"Aren't you going to tell me not to steal?"

Ezryn bit her lip and sputtered out a laugh. "Do you want me to? I could, but I doubt you'd listen. Right?"

A look of curiosity washed over Syera's face. "...Right."

"I will tell you, though," Ezryn lowered her voice," the next time you steal, try grabbing only one thing at a time. Walk away slowly and put it under your clothes. Don't draw attention to yourself. Got it?"

Syera nodded fervently, her whole body shaking with the movement. "What should I do if I get caught by a soldier?"

Ezryn stood up and shrugged. "Bite him hard."