"Did you catch these Lavellan yourself?" Tora asked.

The woman tipped back her head and laughed. "Oh, heavens, no! They're poisonous, my dear. One bite on my wee finger, and I'd be a goner!"

Tora laughed with her, but kept her gaze locked onto the seller. With each passing second, she found herself learning something new – something useful – about the woman before her. The weary and swollen eyes told Tora that she was tired. The way she shifted from one foot to the other told her that the woman's feet were aching.

And, best of all, the fact that she didn't give Tora's hands a second glance told her that the woman didn't suspect a thing.

Tora cocked her head to the side. "You didn't catch them? Who did?"

"The pirates, of course. Pirates of the Cobalt Sea."

"Who are they?"

"You don't know the pirates? Well, dear, the pirates are these young fellows..."

As the woman launched into her story, Tora moved her fingers closer to the table. From the corner of her eye, she looked at all the Lavellan scattered across the wood.

The one closest to her hand stood out too much – it was too plump. The one next to it had tufts of darker fur near its snout – still too memorable. So was the one with the long ears, as well as the one with the rounded, darker paws.

Tora's gaze then landed on the Lavellan in the very centre. Its ears weren't too big, nor were they too small. Its fur didn't have any colourful patches, nor did its tail seem longer than its body. It was just a plain, boring, forgettable Lavellan.

Perfect.

"If you don't mind me asking, dear, what happened to your lip?"

Tora nearly jerked back at the woman's question. "My lip?"

"It's cut."

"Oh."

The woman leaned across the table, her long, silver hair brushing against Tora's outstretched hand. "Well, dearie? Have you gotten into some trouble?"

Tora could feel heat brimming behind her cheeks as she shook her head.

She had completely forgotten about the cut Emil had left on her lip the day before. She had gotten away with it this morning, telling her parents and sisters that she had fought with a rather nasty shark, but she couldn't possibly tell that to a human.

Worse yet, if the woman were to take a quick glance down at the table, she would see Tora's hand hovering over the Lavellan.

Tora cursed beneath her breath.

There was no way out of this one.

"Was it yer husband?" the woman suddenly asked. "If it were yer husband, he ought to be stoned."

"Aye, it was," Tora quickly replied. She forced her lip to tremble, forced her voice to waver. "I don't know what to do about it."

That was all Tora needed to say.

Within seconds, the woman was stretching her arms out, reaching over to embrace Tora across the table. One hand around her waist. One hand around her shoulders.

Tora eased herself into the woman's arms, and she could have sworn that even the cold wind turned silent as she moved her own hands. One hand around the woman's waist. One hand around the Lavellan on the table.

Gotcha.

With a single flick of Tora's wrist, the Lavellan was no longer in her hand. It was buried inside her coat, its tail tucked into her bark belt.

Choreographed, timed, perfected.

"I best be off, ma'am," Tora murmured into the woman's ear. "I don't want to hold you any longer."

Even as the woman pulled away, though, Tora couldn't bring herself to move.

She had promised herself last night that she would hunt a Lavellan.

And instead, she had stolen it.

One glance at the wrinkles and folds on the old woman's face nearly made Tora throw the Lavellan back onto the table.

Maybe this woman had a horrible husband – a real horrible husband. Maybe she lived in a home with smashed windows that couldn't protect her from the nightly blizzards. Maybe she was selling Lavellan so that she could buy herself a new home with proper windows, or even get herself a new fur coat to keep her warm when the snow and ice forced its way into her hut.

Tora felt her heart clench.

Emil Blacach could call her whatever he wanted. She was not going to steal a rat to impress him.

Tora reached for her belt. She already had it all planned – she was going to pull the Lavellan out, distract the woman once more, and leave the Lavellan back on the table. Exactly where she had found it.

But, as Tora's light fingers brushed against her belt, she couldn't help but choke on her breath.

The Lavellan was gone.

All that remained was a bundle of thick rope – the one that the Lavellan had been bound in. Tora moved her hands around her waist, searching and searching, desperately hoping that the Lavellan was still somewhere along the rim of her belt-

Nothing.

It had escaped.

"Everything alright, dear?" the woman was asking. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Tora ignored her.

Lavellan were poisonous to the humans. If one of them were to escape and start biting all the humans that came in its path-

Oh, no. Oh, no.

She had to find that rat. She had to find it now.

Just as Tora was about to drop to her knees and claw her way through the snow, she felt two pairs of paws march its way down her arm like tiny feet of frost imps. She felt a tail slither down behind the feet, felt tufts of fur tickle at her skin.

Then, she felt a stab of pain on her finger.

Tora didn't move. She didn't even blink.

She only lowered her gaze down to her hand, where the Lavellan's teeth were buried deeply into her skin, where a drop of blood was slipping down towards her wrist.

Every muscle in her body screamed for her to run, but she couldn't bring herself to move. She could only stare at the trail of red along her arm, her heart pounding, her head spinning, her skin burning-

"Dearie? Are you-"

From the corner of her eye, Tora saw the woman's gaze dart from the table to the Lavellan in Tora's hand. Counting. Recounting.

Then, the woman's eyes widened.

"Thief!" 

Three fish sold. Thirty-one to go.

Reid sighed as he glanced down at the table. Usually, he brought along a block of wood – deep, rich mahogany – so that he could carve it into little shapes. There were even times when little children traded him a few pieces of silver for some of his carvings – ironically enough, he had once sold more wooden fish than real fish.

But, after yesterday's theft, his father had banned him from that. He had to keep his eyes on the fish, his father had told him. Not some chunk of tree bark.

Reid curled and uncurled his fists. He counted to fifty. He smiled at a passing couple. He even yelled out some rubbish about how cheap and fresh his fish were.

Still, no one came to his stall. They were all clumped around Goodwife Malena's stall – the lady who sold Lavellan for a living.

Reid almost pulled out his hair at the sight of it.

Even Goodwife Malena was doing better business than him. And she sold rats – poisonous rats that were bought by physicians and guards only, for healing remedies and poison. Why was she selling more than him?

That's when Reid saw the long, dark cloak that fell in folds around another girl's shoulders. He saw the Lavellan in her hand, saw the blood running down her finger, saw the hysterical clumps of people reach out and grab her.

"Thief!" Goodwife Malena was screaming. "She's trying to steal my Lavellan!"

Reid almost laughed at the panic in the thief's eyes. But, after another glance at her ragged breaths and her trembling hands, he felt his stomach tighten.

They were going to kill her. That's what the chief did to thieves – he had them stoned.

"She's getting away! Grab her!"

Reid jerked back as he glanced up. The girl – the thief – was running through the maze of people and winding paths, the snow crunching with each step she took. The Lavellan was wrapped tightly around her fingers and her hair was a tangled mess, but she kept running away from the people and straight towards-

His eyes grew wide as the girl looked down at his fish.

She was running towards him. Towards his fish.

Reid reached out to slap away her hand, but she was too quick. In between one blink and the next, she had scooped a handful of fish into her other hand.

Then, she was moving away from the stall and towards the shores, a Lavellan dangling from her left hand and three fish hanging by their tails in her other hand.

For a second, Reid just stood there and let his jaw fall open.

This girl was a madwoman.

A madwoman and a thief.

Reid threw on his mittens and rode the hood of his cloak over his ears.

She had stolen from him again. She hadn't even spared him a glance, nor had she thrown him a sympathetic smile. She had just swooped down towards his stall and grabbed whatever her sticky fingers could latch onto.

With one final glance at his remaining fish, Reid shoved his way past his stall.

Two could play this game.

With his lungs tight, Reid plunged into the crowd. He ducked past the arms stretched out in front of him, past the shouts and protests of the people around him. He dragged himself forwards, each step bringing an ache to his numb legs, each breath bringing a rush of pain to his chest.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the thief steering her way through the markets. She was punching her way through the crooked paths around the stalls, around the huts and sheds, and weaving through the labyrinth of withered, lifeless trees.

Reid bit back his smile.

She was taking the longer path to the shores so that she could avoid the people.

Which worked all the better for him.

Reid wiped the sweat from his forehead as he made his way towards the shore. The foam hissed beneath his feet and the water splashed in arcs as he darted through the tide and straight towards the clumps of rocks.

His legs collapsed beneath him as he found the nook between the two stones. The same clothes were there – the dirty, tattered rags, and the long, silk skirts.

But the cloak was gone.

Instead, in its place, was a thick, seal coat.

Reid felt the air rush out of him as he pulled it into his hands.

He had never touched a seal coat in his life before. He had expected it to be soft from all the fine hairs along the skin, but instead, he found that it was about as coarse as his father's oiler jacket.

And, yet, it felt about as light as air in his hands. It was rusty brown and spotted with black, but the more Reid looked at it, the more he could have sworn it gleamed silver in the morning light.

The soft susurration of footsteps forced Reid to leap back onto his feet.

Someone was coming.

Reid threw the coat over his shoulder and moved behind the rocks. He lay on his back, holding his breath, forcing his body to remain as still as a corpse. And, despite the frantic pounding of his heart, he couldn't help but smile as he held the coat to his chest.

If that thief was going to steal from him, it was only fair that he returned the favour.