thievery

Seeing the emptiness of the Company's headquarters, Daphne's first thought had been that some prank had been played on them all. But judging from the faces of everyone else...it wasn't so. They had been robbed. Their home had been entirely emptied in their brief absence. 

The sun had just set when Arra led the small band of hooded and masked figures through the Bree-Fields. Just ahead the dirt path met a small wooden bridge which went over the stream which flanked a nearby farmhouse. The windows were bright. "Someone's home," Arra said from beneath her hideous mask, carved into the shape of an orc's face. Some might call it an improvement.

It was after the market a week ago that I noticed some of my works were beginning to be missing from my stock. I hadn't noticed until the raid upon the lumber-camp some few days ago. A group of brigands encamped in the Chetwood came upon us like a pack of mongrels. I grabbed my axe and charged out the door, dazed in the midst of it while I struggled to realize what was happening. A man in leather had come upon me, I jabbed my elbow into his gut and hit him with the blunt point of my axe.

Caspier Redain opened her eyes and almost instantly wished that she hadn't. Being awake meant being away from the dreams of Fellicity when they were young and innocent or the warm, careless dark of deep, dreamless sleep. Death. That would be a dark, dreamless sleep away from the cares of the world. She craved death and avoided it. She was determined not to succomb  to it. Not yet. Redain dragged herself to her feet somehow. Every movement was an effort of both body and willpower. It hurt! Everything she did caused so much pain. How weak had she become?