"Now then," Tristan thought, trying to navigate his way through the bustling crowd. "For lunch."
He was wearing a dark hood, trying to look inconspicuous. After all, one couldn't attract attention when trying to steal some food.
Swiping some bread and a hunk of cheese from a stall, he looked for a place to savour his earnings, feeling a tad guilty. But then again, he was starving. He was too lean for his age, and most old ladies he met urged him to eat and fatten up a bit.
He sniffed, completely avoiding the fishmongers stall. The fishy smell was just a bit too strong for his sensitive nose.
He escaped to the wealthier part of the village, where the crowds were thinner, but you would still occasionally bump into people.
His gaze fell onto the Mansion, where an unpleasant middle aged man named Richard Penn lived.
Tristan leaned against a wall, narrowly avoiding a woman as she rushed past carrying her crying child.
He glanced to the front door of the Mansion and noticed a figure wearing an eye catching red cloak. Pity it was patched up in a few spots.
Intrigued, he placed his full attention on the figure. From the back, he couldn't see much, but they had a short and lithe body.
The figure turned around and it was a girl around the age of 17-20, and she wore an absolutely delightful smile.
She was carrying a basket in the crook of her elbow and holding a box of matches, apparently trying to sell some to Sir Richard.
Sir Richard definitely looked put out by a random girl trying to sell him matches. Getting over his surprise, his face soured and he shut the door in her face.
Her expression showed her apparent disgust.
She pulled a bottle from the basket and, after glancing around for a bit, dumped its contents on the doorstep.
She then lit the match she was holding on the side of a match box, and dropped it on the floor before speed-walking away.
Amused, Tristan was not alarmed by her actions. The water she threw probably put out the match anyway. He decided to follow her for a bit as he had nothing better to do, and it was rare someone interesting showed up.
Tristan had just started following her when he heard a yelp, then someone shrieking "FIRE!!"
Looking back, he saw the flames of the match literally exploding to life, engulfing the house in a matter of seconds.
He had a nanosecond to debate whether to help when he glimpsed a red cape in the corner of his eye.
"Wait!" he yelled and ran towards the girl. She didn't hear him over the shouts.
But, as if sensing someone following her, she launched into a full out sprint, surprising him.
She ran towards the woods, which made trying to catch her slightly easier as he knew his way around there.
Once he passed the tree line, he morphed into a wolf, the speed helping him gain on to her. He was a werewolf, you see.
She was surprisingly quick and nimble, dodging trees and taking sharp turns. A few of which where he nearly lost her.
He took another turn and skidded to a halt. He'd lost her.
Tristan perked up his ears, straining to hear the smallest noise.
The grass crunched under his paws. The wind blew, rustling the leaves, and he could hear the, very faint, laughter of children from the village behind him.
The leaves rustled louder as he strained to hear the sound of boots crunching on leaves.
A twig snapped from above him, oh wait—
He was immediately knocked (or rather, slammed) to the ground as someone fell onto his back from the trees, effectively pinning him down. They crouched above him, panting, a blade in hand.
He caught a glimpse of a red cape.
"It seems I've found a little sheep," she laughed softly.
