Thief in Broad Daylight

A bead of sweat trickled into Draius' eye, blinding him momentarily. Nearly faltering, he swiped the sweat away, barely keeping his footing in the close quarters. The alley walls suddenly seemed frighteningly close. Probably just the nerves... Just keep running... The boy clutched the loaf of bread he had stolen closer to his body, keeping thoughts of the hungry children in his mind to spur him on.

Though he could no longer hear the footfalls of his pursuer, he knew it wouldn't be long before they were replaced by those of the Watch. The Watch was comprised of the proud, swift, and relentless; a list of traits that did not bode will for the boy.

Draius ducked sidelong into another alleyway, turning his head to gauge the likelihood of being seen. There were no pedestrians this early in the day, though, so he continued on his path.

A few yards in, a poorly organized stack of crates stood against a worn, red brick wall, indicating that he was in the poorer part of the mercantile district. Taking another precautionary glance at the entrances to the alley, Draius made his way to the crates, then carefully moved a few of them that were nailed together out of the way. Beneath them was a small iron grate leading to the sewers, the stench nearly enough to knock a grown man into a dead faint.

With practiced hands, he lifted the grate, slipping his slender, malnourished body into a hole that only the youngest of the Whisperfoot Clan - a group poor folk who had been driven to theft in order to survive - could squeeze through unharmed. Footfalls in the distance urged him to hurry, and he nearly broke his leg as he landed upright in the murky water below. Quickly, he pulled the edge of the crates and then the grate back into place with his free hand. As an afterthought, he checked the bread, and found it was still clean. With a sigh of relief, he ran into the darkness toward his adopted home.