The silver moonlight shone down onto the dark street below, reflecting off the cobblestones. A dark figure crept along the deserted alley, dressed in ragged leather clothing, with a simple pack across his shoulder, resting on his hip. A handful of pigeon feathers were fastened to the side of a beaten-up black cap. His hazel eyes glinted in the moonlight, and his unruly, jet-black hair hung down to his shoulders. He was totally silent as he moved, and he seemed at home in the dark, untouched back alley. His name was Auri.

Auri ran quickly and silently through the dark alley until came upon a tall, decorative building with a low, round window. He reached in a pouch at his belt and pulled out a bent, but durable wire. He crawled up a pile of discarded scrap-wood up to the window, and was about to insert the wire into the window’s lock, when he heard a yell of terror from a nearby street. What was that? Someone was clearly frightened, and Auri, being naturally curious, wanted to find out exactly what was happening.

He slid down the pile of cloth, putting the wire back in his belt pouch, and started to run toward where he had heard the yell. Another scream tore through the air, but was suddenly cut off. A murder, Auri guessed, his steps faltering. Auri didn’t like when people got hurt, even though he was a thief himself. Auri would only steal from people who were wealthy and didn’t need the stuff he took. Usually.

Auri charged around a corner and slowed to a stop. In front of him was the back of the town sheriff, an unfriendly but hardworking law enforcer who caught many a criminal. The sheriff, nicknamed Hound behind his back, was like a dog following a scent, never wavering until the malefactor was in chains. Despite his thorough investigations, he had never caught Auri. To Hound, Auri was just a pesky orphan, who occasionally found things that the owners had misplaced. Auri grinned. He often bring items that he had stolen to Hound, and claimed innocently that he had found them carelessly dropped in a nearby alley or garbage pile. The truth was that he himself had stolen it, but Hound always assumed the owners had carelessly lost it. He would bring it back to the person who had reported the theft, and would irately tell them to be more careful with their things. The victims would stand, speechless, wondering how their possessions had traveled from a locked closet deep in the house, to the gutter in front of the house, where Auri had purportedly found it.