“You sure the thief went this way?”

“As sure as I can be.”

“This’ll be the tenth time we cornered him.”

“I don’t think it’s a him.”

“I don’t care what’s between the thief’s legs. I’m tired of this one making fools of us all week.”

The seven guards slowly step into the crate-filled alley, their swords drawn and their shields held out. The rising sun casts some light into the mouth of the alley, but it is not enough to destroy all of the shadows. A shaggy cat screeches and scampers out from its hiding place as the guards continue their cautious advance. They stare at every shadow, each guard looking in a different direction. After ten minutes, they reach the back of the alley where the white brick of a house blocks their path.

“At least you guys are persistent!” shouts a deep, baritone voice from behind them. “The guards in Rodillen usually give up the chase after three days.”

The guards spin around to see a muscular shadow stepping out from behind a nearby stack of wooden crates. They are about to charge when the shadow holds up its fist and casually waves with its other hand. A nervous murmur passes through the squad of guards before the mysterious thief turns to run out of the alley. They start to follow, but the swaying towers of crates begin crashing to the ground as the thief runs by them. Before they can get out, the guards are trapped under a heavy pile of crates filled with pillows, empty bottles, and other random trash.

Racing across the street and ducking into another alley, the muscular thief weaves his way through the shadows. Eventually, the shadowy figure leaps onto a low ledge and proceeds to gracefully bounce between the two closely set buildings. Grabbing the edge of the roof, the thief flips out of sight and rolls into a crouch. The sun washes the muscular figure away, leaving a slender form clad in a full-body leather suit. She casually tucks her short, blonde hair behind her pointy ears before stretching her arms over her head.

“Come home, Flitter,” the elf whispers into the wind. She sits down on the roof to count the money she stole during the night while a young barn owl swoops out of the sky. The small beast lands on her head, leaning forward to stare into her golden eyes. She pulls a dead mouse out of one of her belt pouches and hands it to the hungry owl.

“You did a good job finding marks,” the thief says, dropping her new wealth into an empty pouch. “Still, we should find a way to gather more attention. It’s been a week and the guild has been quiet. In Rodillen, I would have been threatened or recruited by now. These guys seem to be pickier.”

The barn owl begins making noises as it excitedly hops along the far edge of the rooftop. The thief creeps over to the bird and peeks over the edge to see the seven guards standing in the street. In the middle of the guards is a large knight with orange hair and a pronounced lower jaw. A fancy war hammer is strapped to his waist, but his hand is gripped on its handle in case he needs to draw it quickly. He begins pointing around the street, sending the guards to search the surrounding area for something or someone. The thief grins as she realizes that she has gained the attention of a fully-armored knight. After watching the knight for a few minutes, she notices that his left gauntlet is a lot thicker than his right gauntlet.

“I think I found a way to get some attention,” the thief whispers, licking her ruby lips in anticipation. “I need you to draw the guards away, Flitter. The knight won’t move until they call for his help. Get them about ten blocks away and fly high to look for me because I’ll probably be on the run.”

The owl hoots at her and walks to the center of the roof before taking to the air. Its shadow transforms into a faint, humanoid silhouette bounding over the rooftops. She patiently waits for the sound of the guards shouting that they see something. Using her ears to track the differing footsteps, she listens for all of the guards leave the area. To her relief, she never hears the heavy steps of the knight. Reaching into her dark velvet and leather boots, she pulls out a vial of thick, red liquid and a strap of flesh-colored adhesive cloth with a horizontal slit through the middle. Still listening for movement from the knight, she sticks the cloth to her neck and covers the entire area with the red liquid. The liquid starts to shimmer and flow down her chest as if it is seeping out of a wound. To anyone who takes a quick look at the thief, it would appear that somebody has slit her throat.

“Time for a performance,” she chuckles, stepping off the roof over the alley and drifting down to the ground. As soon as she hits the ground, she slams herself against a stack of boxes and screams at the top of her lungs. The scream cuts off with a horrifying gurgle as she stumbles and trips her way to the mouth of the alley. She pitches forward, landing face first on the ground and sending the fake blood splattering ahead of her.

“Help me,” she whispers, reaching toward the towering knight, who is swiftly approaching. Her other hand squeezes her neck, squirting some of the fake blood through her fingers.

“Hold this to your throat,” the knight urges her. He presses a soft, yellow handkerchief to her wound to stop the bleeding. “I will get you a healer immediately.”

The thief grabs the knight by his left wrist when she feels him attempt to move. “Please don’t leave me. It’s getting cold and dark.”

“You need a healer if you are going to survive,” the knight insists. He looks around the street to see if there is anyone he can call to for help.

“You’re very kind, but the wound is too deep and I’ve lost too much blood,” she says, her voice getting so low that the knight has to lean in to hear her. “Just don’t let me die here alone, sir.”

“My name is Lord Highrider,” the knight says, gently stroking the elf’s head. “I promise to stay with you until the end. Can you tell me who did this to you?”

“I was attacked from behind,” she answers with a weak, trembling voice. Her eyes suddenly go wide and she tries to point across the street. “Him . . . that guy has my blood on him. I can see it on his arm.”

Lord Highrider tries to hold the panicky elf down without causing her pain while he turns his head to look across the street. A few people have left their homes to go to work or get some early shopping done, but he doesn’t see a man with blood on his arm. In fact, it is only women on the street and all of them have stopped to stare at the gory scene. A suspicious feeling washes over the knight before he suddenly notices that he no longer feels the dying elf in his arms. He looks down to see that his gauntlet compartment has been pried open, the hidden money pouch no longer inside.

“Guards!” the knight shouts, his voice echoing along the street. He notices a brief flicker of movement on the rooftops and starts moving along the sidewalk. “The thief is a female elf with short blonde hair and golden eyes! She is on the rooftops!”

“The name is Linny if that helps,” says a playful voice from an alley as Lord Highrider walks by. He stops and turns in time to get hit in the face by a wet strip of cloth that covers his face in red, tangy liquid. He can feel a light impact on his shoulder as the thief lands on him and leaps into the street.

Linny hits the ground and immediately sprints down the street to the invigorating sound of screaming guards. She can see several armored men coming down the street, so she ducks into the first alley that she knows will lead to another street. As she nears the far mouth of the alley, a spearman steps into her path and holds his weapon out to stop her. Without slowing down, Linny leaps onto the spear, briefly sliding down the weapon and flipping over the head of the guard. She spins around to hit the guard in the back of the head with a leather sap and races into the bustling street to use the crowd as cover.

Skidding to a halt, Linny realizes that several guards are already pushing through the crowd to get to her. Looking back at the alley, she can see the broad form of Lord Highrider approaching with his war hammer drawn. With a defiant smile, she races forward and hooks her arm around the waist of a young woman holding a basket of oranges over her head. Linny spins the startled woman, so that the oranges fly out of the basket and hit several people. One of the oranges hits a man carrying wooden boards, causing him to turn in surprise and hit a chainmail-wearing guard in the face with the boards. The chaos grows as people are knocked into stalls and the ground is littered with crushed, fallen goods.

“Everyone halt!” Lord Highrider yells as he exits the alley. The crowd freezes, allowing him to scan the area for any sign of the thief. Several guards gently push through the crowd to stand in front of their leader and await orders.

“We should spread out to find the thief, but she could very well be gone due to this crowd,” Lord Highrider says in a resigned voice. “You will disperse the crowd to make things easier. I want you three to search the crowd in that direction and you four will search the crowd in the other direction as they thin out.”

The guards salute their leader and follow his orders as he keeps a careful eye on the whispering crowd. His eyes suddenly shift to a prone, semi-naked form on the ground behind a toppled stall. Lord Highrider swiftly approaches to find one of his guards who has been knocked out and stripped of his armor. He is about to yell more orders when he hears several people whispering about finding gold coins in their pockets or behind their damaged stalls. An amused grin crosses the knight’s face and he puts the unconscious guard over his shoulder.

“We are done here, men!” Lord Highrider loudly announces, trying to sound frustrated and upset. “That little weasel got away! Tomorrow is another day to catch her!”