Into The Woods

He hated that she got in his head like sap and stuck there. All because of some stupid book his nicked off someone that he thought he was going to be able to sell for enough money to maybe get himself a few days food and ale. But then she had to go and say all those things... all those things about him having potential. No one ever said nice stuff like that to him before. He was just a petty thief, a little rat who lived on the streets and stole to survive and lived in a tree-top shelter in the woods when he was between villages.

Not everything he'd told her had been true, but most of it hadn't been complete lies either, so that was easy to talk his way out of if he had to. He'd learned early it was always best to stay as close to the truth as he could

But she, that noblewoman... correction, that Queen lady... she said that she thought he had potential and he could learn to read. ( If he knew how to read he could probably be of better use as far as what things were worth.  )

“There,” Gin said as he tossed a few coins on the bar. “That should buy a pint of ale.” A moment later said pint was in his hand and he, along with a small bag slung over his shoulder, found an empty table to sit at.

It was time to relax and recount his spoils of the day. The bits, bobs and baubles were hardly trinkets of any importance. They would be easily hawked in the next village where no one be any the wiser that such items were stolen goods. That was for tomorrow, though. Tonight he was going to have a few pints of ale and find a stable to sleep in where it wouldn't cost him a thing and his only concern ( was being kicked or pissed on by a surly equine. )

Something smelled good.

Something smelled really good.

Gin couldn't really describe the scent. It was a little bit sweet and a little bit savory. Two separate scents, maybe? The wind wasn't blowing very hard, so it had to be something nearby and he was definitely going to investigate. Hopefully it wasn't the baker in the village. His prices were ridiculous and his eye was sharp. Even a skilled thief by the likes of Gin got caught in his shop and he didn't have enough coin to even think of spending it on bread or cakes when it could be spent on ale later.

He paused, bent down and grabbed a handful of fluffy snow and tossed it in the air. The snowflakes, as expected blew away from his face toward the village proper. That meant the village and the baker were upwind from him. He wasn't a good tracker by any means, but living in the woods, surviving on his own and learning to not be seen or caught taught him a few things.

( Especially when the potential for his next home-cooked meal was on the line. )