A Thief's Shadow

Prologue

Branches crackled underfoot, releasing clouds of frost into the air with each snap. Silence wasn't necessary yet. The figure slipped through the leafless forest, nothing more than a shadow in the darkness, headed towards a target, a victim. In the distance a fire crackled, sending up a beacon of twisting smoke. Several shapes huddled around it, rubbing their palms together to keep their limbs awake. Their fur cloaks had likely cost pounds of gold, but they were useless in the forest. Money couldn't buy warmth, not during winter in Desantis.

Silence closed in as the shadow grew closer. His boots seemed to brush over the branches beneath them, soundless as a winter wraith. The horses saw him and nodded as if welcoming him into the camp. They knew that he meant them no harm. He flickered through the tents like a candle on a windy night. Useful objects presented themselves, but his targets weren't useful objects. They were valuable objects. The jewels and gold glittered in the darkness as if begging to be taken. His fingers swiftly swept over the precious objects, tucking them into the countless pockets of his overcoat. Bribery, black market, currency; each of them was useful in its own way.

Only minutes after entering the small camp, he retreated to the forest once again. For a moment he watched the huddled group. The woman sat with her child under a rich fur blanket, her skin pushing at the buttons of her clothing from a life of plenty. The man sat strong and rugged, though in truth he had likely never fought anyone except his own friends before. The real fighters, the knights they'd brought along as guards, sat staring stoically into the fire. The woman's glossy eyes latched onto something within the darkness of the forest. He stared back at her. She screamed.  Melting into the forest like a shadow, he returned to the night. The soldiers gazed into the forest with searching eyes, but nothing was there. No shadows, no footprints, not even patches of melted frost. The woman was simply seeing things.

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The horses slowed, the cart they pulled rolling to a halt. A man who had the sense to wear leather over cloth instead of fur stepped forward with a smile. Considering he'd probably been standing there all day in the cold, the smile looked pretty honest. "My apologies, this shouldn't take long. I just need to see your papers then you can be on your way. The King's palace is in that direction and a city where you can restock is in that direction." He pointed in two different directions. Two lords, both well fed, squeezed through the narrow carriage door. They smiled thinly and glanced into the empty forests.

A shadow flickered beneath the carriage, watching, waiting. The lords shuffled through their fur coats until at last they retrieved crisp yellow papers. The borderman looked down as he took the papers. This was the opportunity the shadow needed. He flickered up into the still-open carriage. The pack horses trailing behind had already been searched and relieved of their valuables. That could be done on the road. The compartments beneath the seats, however... Gloved hands danced along locks and chests with the speed of a hummingbird's wings, and he relieved the lords of their gold and jewels. The snow crunched outside and the cheerful voice of the borderman echoed into the silence as he handed the papers back. The shadow slid into the forest and watched his prey return to the carriage.

The larger of the two adjusted his position on the cushioned seat and pulled the satin curtain away from the window. Before they began pulling away he saw an ash-colored ghost with silver eyes watching from the white forest. He quickly spun around and tapped his companion's shoulder. "Look at this!" They turned to the window. Nothing was there. There weren't even indents in the snow.

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