The Egg Thief

[~West Wind~]

I've been writing since 4th Grade and this is my all-time favorite story I ever wrote. Comments and Crititque are welcome!

Wren leaned against the gnarled tree trunk, looking down at the boys below her with interest. They were doing another round of betting, which consisted of the boys betting one another, each time trying to outdo the other. When they could not think of a higher bet, they forked over a copper coin to the winner. It was a stupid game, everyone knew that, but it was a way of impressing the other lads into thinking the winner was somehow superior, and that was something that made you a leader. Boys liked being leaders, and they liked intimidating others. This was exactly why the boys played the game.

She glared down at the boy who bet his opponent to kiss the nearest girl, which was to say, her. She looked away as soon as the boy smirked at her. Nat was his name, and teasing was his game.

Nat’s opponent squirmed uncomfortably, and looked up at her. Her expression clearly said she did not approve of this idea, and so the lad, being the smart kind, quickly thought up a different wager.

Wren turned her eyes away from the activity beneath her and looked to the east. Large, golden hills of wheat stretched far into the distance. “I’ll be back soon,” her mother had said, riding off in that direction. She missed her mother dearly, but would not speak of it to anyone, for fear of breaking down into the tears of a person who was too emotional. I am not emotional. I’m tough and strong, and I will prove it to anyone who says different.

“Hey, Wren!” She nearly jumped. She had been so deep in her brooding that she had forgot there were others nearby.

“What?” Wren snapped at Nat. She saw his eyes flicker with the barest of uncertainty. Maybe it had not been a good idea to disturb Wren. Then his bravado returned and Nat began circling around the base of the tree.

Will he try to pull me out? She thought about it, but quickly told herself he wouldn’t dare. Besides, there are so many leaves and branches it would be hard to find her boot.

“You brave enough for a dare?” Nat goaded, kicking the tree. Taunt all you like, Nat. Wren steeled herself inside the iron walls of her mind, imagining Nat as an ant to her unbreakable willpower. I will not submit myself to any dare of yours.

Nat took Wren’s silence for permission to continue. “I dare you to steal something from the trader’s tents.” There was hesitation, and then, “unless you’re too chicken.”

Her eyes snapped open. A wry smile curled her lips. The adventurous side of her roared with approval. Then, slowly after her mind whirled with plans, came the worrywart, over cautious part of her, faint against the side of adventure. What would your mother say? What would her mother say? “Wren, don’t you dare!” that’s what she’d say. Well, her mother never had to know. She could slip in and out like a shadow, and the traders would think they had dropped something. The wry smile returned, broader than ever.

“I accept.” She dropped from her tall perch, dropping to the ground onto her feet. Her bones hurt from the impact, and Wren thought to herself that it probably was not good for her to do that. The surprised look on Nat’s face though, was enough to forget her discomfort.

“Any limitations?” Wren smirked at him, confident in herself. “Nothing outrageous or I’ll object”. A person had to be careful when taking on one of Nat’s dares.

Nat smirked back, his oversized ego returning. “You have to be back here in an hour.” He turned on his heel, satisfied with himself. His challenger, somewhat regretfully, got up, and after looking at Wren for a moment, followed him.

Wren stared after Nat’s adversary for a moment, who trailed after Nat doggedly. She didn’t know him that well. What was his name? She searched her memory, and finally it came to her. Gryphon; that was his name. She wondered how she had not remembered sooner. Surely, anyone with the name of a legendary beast is easier to remember.

After gathering in a shuddering breath, Wren stalked to the trader’s tents which were unbelievably noisy, and crowded with people to boot. I shouldn’t have let him give me an hour. Two hours would have been much more reasonable. How was any novice thief supposed to steal something in an hour? All the stories of the great thieves of the ages spoke of how they made their plans, but never in just an hour!

I can do this. Come on, it’s not very hard. ‘Accidentally’ bump a jeweled necklace off a table, or create a distraction; you don’t have to take the traders purse.

Wren stared at the multiple booths and tents set up in a neat row. Well, it would have been neat if it were not so crowded. There were heated exchanges going up and down the row, people of the city fighting over some trader’s ware that they had all wanted.

Wren noticed the tall, muscular figures leaning against the booths. Bodyguards! Her blood chilled at the sight. Biting her lip, Wren forced herself to mingle with the crowd, and try to act natural. Peer over shoulders at wares; look in at the shouting; pretend you actually like the golden necklaces they sell; listen in to a minstrel; avoid eye contact. It was hard for Wren, trying to be natural while trying to think up a plot to steal something.

There was a fire roaring over near one booth. Wren thought about setting something on fire as a way to get the attention of the crowds, but she decided that it was much too dramatic and disruptive. Feeling tragically defeated, Wren wandered over to a less crowded area of the row. Lazy guards sliced small cubes out of the delicious looking sweet fruit they held; their eyes casually surveying the crowd and back again to their treat. This part of the row would be swarming later, when the children with their copper coins came out to buy the various cheap trinkets the traders eagerly provided.

She slumped against a strong wooden post of a booth, staring at the dusty tips of her boots.

“Don’t have enough money to buy anything?” A deep, but kindly voice sounded on her left, and Wren looked up to the owner of it. It was a guard, with gray-flecked hair and soft, gray eyes. His skin was tanned to a dark shade of brown, which made his roughly trimmed gray beard seem even more striking.

Wren shook her head. “No sir,” she told him. Her mother had needed to borrow most of hers before she left, and while she had promised to pay it back, her mother had not returned.

A sympathetic smile spread over his face. One of his big, burly hands slipped behind him, and drew out, a stunning silver necklace, which he held out to her. Wren’s eyes widened.

“I’m sorry it’s not gold,” the guard said with a grin.

“No, that’s okay,” Wren said, carefully taking it from him. “I hate gold.”

The guard’s eyebrows rose. “You do? I thought girls liked gold.”

Wren shrugged, staring at the teardrop shape of the shimmering gem on the necklace. “I can’t stand the stuff. I love silver though.” She looked up at the guard. “How can I ever repay you?”

He pointed to the trader of the booth. “Why don’t you ask my boss for another fruit for me?”

Wren nodded happily, and darted over to the trader. She was a very shapely woman, her skin blotchy and flushed from the day’s heat. When Wren gave the guard’s request, the women’s eyes trailed to the silver necklace in her hand. Her face went red with rage, and she yelled at her guard.

“Stop giving away my wares, Thomas! You can’t just give a necklace to every pretty lass you see!”

Thomas cocked an eyebrow. “This is a special case, Cherry.”

The woman’s stern expression remained, but her anger faded. She looked at Wren with a disapproving eye. “I see.” After what seemed like a minute, she handed Wren a fruit. “Watch yourself girl. Don’t flirt with danger.” Wren bit back a sharp retort, about how she never would ‘flirt’, of all things, but nodded politely, and scampered back to the guard. She handed him his fruit, and he flourished a bow.

“Thank you, my good lady.” Wren’s cheeks flushed, and trying not to smile, tucked the necklace into her pocket. She thanked him again, and drifted back into the crowd.

As she drifted, she thought to herself. What was that all about? By ‘special case’, did he mean I was special? What did he see in her?

Ha! Like I could be special.