Glass and Ashes

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Talan loved to run.

He loved how the toughened soles of his bare feet slapped the ground, each step propelling him forward while the lean muscles in his legs churned until he was practically weightless. His tangle of dark hair streamed back, bouncing with every stride.

He grinned as he looked back at his pursuer.

“Stop, you thief!”

The man was already blowing hard, his moon-shaped face red from more than outrage. His massive gut weighed against him, making him too slow to catch Talan.

As if anyone could. Talan let the wind snatch his laughter as he ran even faster.

Duck, dodge, weave. He darted between startled townspeople, running low to the ground. The fat man would have given up; chasing Talan meant leaving his cart unattended. It would be a wonder if no one else had raided it by then.

Talan ran anyway, as the shouts of “Thief!” faded behind him. A guardsman looked at Talan as he zipped by, but thought better of pursuing. It was hot, and catching a ragged street boy not worth the effort.

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