Winter 21, 518 AV
The Gallows. Sparrow often passed the place, however hurriedly. She never understood why it was such an entertainment for the citizens of Sunberth to gather and watch the death of a man. They flocked like angry birds raging at the unfortunate victim of the day. The place smelled only of death, and no good would come from lingering nearby. Today, especially, as she noticed a small grouping of people in the area, no doubt waiting for whatever execution lay ahead.
Ducking her head, she power walked through the square. Running would attract attention, and that was always the last thing she needed. Prying eyes had no business here, she would think and could only hope they agreed. She was just another boy, roaming the streets, or so she hoped they would not look too closely.
Her destination was not far from the Gallows. It was one of her favorite places, though it was not free of threats. She was headed to Baker's, the butchery and bakery in town. On normal days she would be able to find a few bone scrap in the trash, something she could break for her brother to suck on for the night. On great, and very rare, days, she might find a piece of bread, whether stale or burnt, it did not matter. Bread was an unheard of delicacy for the siblings.
The owner, Baker, seemed a kind man, though you could never know what lie beneath the facade. His wife though, a Myrian, Sparrow had heard, a people who thrived on blood and violence and murder. She must feel so at home in Sunberth, Sparrow would think, the city of death. She could only hope that if she had the unfortunate event of being caught digging through the trash, that is was Baker who found her, rather than his savage of a spouse.
The shop was located at the riverside in the Castle Commons, a great luck for Sparrow and other scavengers. The trash, located out back, was in great cover because of the river so close by. Only those fishing on the water, or the ferrypeople on their boats would be able to see her, ideally, and usually they were too far or preoccupied to care.
Dressed in her ravaged burlap attire, Sparrow carried her leather sling bag with her today. It was empty, as usual on the beginnings of her raids through town. She could only dream that is would be somewhat filled by the time she returned to her so called home.
The trick, at least her trick, was to get in and out as quickly as possible. Less time for wanderers to happen upon her, and less chance of one of the owners stepping out back and catching her in the act. She wondered, sometimes, if they really would care, they were throwing the stuff out anyway, but it seemed frowned upon she she saw it happen elsewhere. She could take no chances.
Sprinting the last few steps around the corner, she spotted the trash, just a box set outside the back door, and scurried quickly to its side. She was hit with the foul smell of rotting meat and death from the contents, but she did not gag. It was a smell that was all too common in the city, and in her specific lifestyle. Quickly, quickly, she began rifling through the box, looking for anything even remotely edible.