Ivanthe crossed his legs as he began eating, eyes fixed attentively on Finn. The following story was fractured and breathless, a sure sign of something exciting; the older boy’s eyes sparkled when he spoke of the quest, then dimmed suddenly when it came to the mention of payment.
Ivanthe grimaced and nodded sympathetically, well aware of how poorly young workers were paid for labor. When Finn’s tone turned suggestive, though, his stomach dropped apprehensively. There was the catch to it all, hanging clearly even before Finn was done speaking.
The young hunter bit his lip dubiously, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Finn laid out the camp’s mealtime, the lack of patrols, the soft assurances about how minimal the danger was – Ivanthe was not a trained thief by any means, but the task didn’t seem to require one. Looking at things from Finn’s perspective, Ivanthe could see the apparent ease for himself. The camp had been small, from what he’d seen, and Finn’s words about guards felt true.
And stealing a chest would more than put them back on equal footing. But still…
“I… could do it,” Ivanthe replied eventually, though his tone betrayed uneasiness. “If you’re sure you can keep anyone from coming back to check. I think I remember seeing that tent last night. On the north side, right?”
He looked down at his food, running nervous fingers over the bread as his chest grew tighter. He’d grown up swiping small things from Yaren, but it had mostly been food on hungry nights and only once had he taken something from a camp that wasn’t his.
“Yes,” he stated firmly after a few moments. “I’ll get it for you. Tonight, and I’ll hide with it to make sure you get it in the morning.”
Ivanthe grimaced and nodded sympathetically, well aware of how poorly young workers were paid for labor. When Finn’s tone turned suggestive, though, his stomach dropped apprehensively. There was the catch to it all, hanging clearly even before Finn was done speaking.
The young hunter bit his lip dubiously, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Finn laid out the camp’s mealtime, the lack of patrols, the soft assurances about how minimal the danger was – Ivanthe was not a trained thief by any means, but the task didn’t seem to require one. Looking at things from Finn’s perspective, Ivanthe could see the apparent ease for himself. The camp had been small, from what he’d seen, and Finn’s words about guards felt true.
And stealing a chest would more than put them back on equal footing. But still…
“I… could do it,” Ivanthe replied eventually, though his tone betrayed uneasiness. “If you’re sure you can keep anyone from coming back to check. I think I remember seeing that tent last night. On the north side, right?”
He looked down at his food, running nervous fingers over the bread as his chest grew tighter. He’d grown up swiping small things from Yaren, but it had mostly been food on hungry nights and only once had he taken something from a camp that wasn’t his.
“Yes,” he stated firmly after a few moments. “I’ll get it for you. Tonight, and I’ll hide with it to make sure you get it in the morning.”