Cloak and Spider

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Thren Felhorn watched the merchant’s stall, his stomach rumbling as he imagined the food he might eat if the score went off as intended. His friend Grayson was already there, asking question after question of the merchant busy trying to sell his wares to a wealthy couple dressed in red silks and fox fur. At best Grayson earned himself a swat at his head, but Thren’s dark-skinned friend always ducked aside just before it connected. After one aggravated swipe, and a yell to get lost, Grayson turned toward him and winked before sidling back up to the stall.

That was the signal. Thren kept his head down, his hands in his pockets. Most importantly, he kept his eyes to the ground. Without eye contact, he would be invisible to the populace of the grand city of Mordeina, just one of a hundred orphan boys forced to beg, borrow, and steal for their daily bread. But today Thren planned on eating far better than stale, cracked bread that had gone unsold the day before.

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