The Food Thief (Ein)

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus didn’t normally do this, but he was starving.

This Nefarious guy didn’t seem so bad... If not a bit shady he had decided as he’d let himself be talked into this... Breaking into homes for loot. He felt like a right old bad guy right now honestly. But what could he do? He offered money and food... Money could keep him warmer with better clothes, food could stop him from starving.

But even now as he stood in this house he felt a wracking guilt.

He’d started to loot, even reached for stuff but then stopped. Put whatever he had taken back and took a few steps back. Why was he doing this? Was this really the life he wanted? A thief? A bandit? He wondered - the house couldn’t have belonged to anyone rich. Who knew what he was looting. The only things they had in the world? Maybe.

But the food did get to him, he could smell it. He was so hungry, and well.. They could get more food, right? He moved into the kitchen area before carefully taking the first thing he found. Some sort of meat. Hungrily he began to eat, ravenous. His mouth watering. Oh how good it tasted.

Then he heard something - or someone. Panic set in as he sprinted to the nearest corner. Sitting down with his back to it, he quickly heaved a little, still desperately clutching the food. Maybe they’d see him with his dirty rags and holed cloak, and food crumbs on him and read between the lines..

Or maybe they’d turn him right in.

Either way he was shaky. “Please don’t hurt me,” he murmured. Knowing they’d find him before long. “Please don’t hurt me...” How he wished he had taken his own advice and brought his axe.

[Ein]

The wemic noticed immediately that someone was in his house. He didn’t show it, he merely stepped in, stooping down to fit through the small door, paws soft against the wood floor, creaking slightly beneath his weight. He could’ve done it silently, he knew the first board was loose and noisy, but he aimed for it directly to give whatever strange creature had left his front door open. He stood up straight, tall enough to nearly reach the ceiling, and looked around mechanically, sweeping his keen eyes from one side to the other. He didn’t see anything out of place, none of the statues or gold set on a shelf above his hearth were moved, he squinted at it. No, one of his cat statues was angled slightly, it had been moved but not taken. That was even more concerning. The robber must still be in the house.

His brow a hard line over his dark eyes, Ein looked around the room again. From the door he could see pretty much the whole house, it was a small thing, his bedroom just an archway away, next to the bathroom which was only closed off by cat scratched cloth. He went there first, finally moving from the doorway to peer into the bathroom. As he cleared the door, a wave of cats followed him into the little hut, Bucky strangely taking up the rear when usually he was at the front of the charge. He seemed to sense that something wasn’t right as well and did his own investigation of the house, sniffing the air and trying to follow any strange scents to their source. Ein just peered around in his bathroom for a moment, before deciding that it was safer and easier to simply use his senses.

He closed his dark eyes and waiting a moment, letting the wind sweep through the small cottage through the open door, letting it play with his hanging pots and pans. They clattered softly and the sound drew his attention to the kitchen area. Behind the island counter was the only place that he really could not see, and as he followed the wind direction with his gaze, he noticed that Bucky’s special birthday steak was missing from its place on the cutting board. That was when he heard it, a tiny plea from a tiny person. At first, he seemed disgusted, crinkling his nose and revealing his sharp pointed wemic teeth. But when he stormed over to the island and found the boy hiding behind it, he softened, frowning, still clearly disappointed and he still roughly reached down and hefted the boy to his feet by the collar of his ratty little tunic. Though his displeasure was palpable, the wemic’s voice was soft and calm.

“What the hell are you doing here boy?”