by Ryan Brenner

Created on: July 22, 2010

This is an except from a novel entitled the Street Thief's Apprentice. 

Anna was still running.  She had made it out of town, before the watch had closed the street.  She could hear someone running behind her, but she assumed it was Simon.  Either way if they had wanted her to stop they would have yelled by now.

She could see the glow from the campfires, but heard no singing, no boisterous laughter.  Her lungs burned, but her feet wouldn’t stop moving.  Sweat was rolling down her forehead; the camp was only a hundred yards or so now.  Simon had caught up and was running by her side.  He did not need to ask where they were going.

They reached the edge of the road, and looked into the small hollow.  Fires burned, untended, some of the horses roamed among the fires.  They should be tied up this was not good.

“Tobias,” Anna called.

She ran down the hill calling his name again.  She ran into the center of the camp, members of the troupe lay motionless on the ground their forms back lighted by the fires.  No one answered her cries.

“Tobias,” she called again, running toward their tent. 

Simon knelt by one of the gypsies.  The same frozen stare was on their face that he had seen on the magistrates just a few hour before.  He could here Anna continuing to call for the big man who had grabbed him earlier that morning.

Anna, ran around the camp.  Simon said nothing just stood and watched her with pity.  He knew what it was like to realize someone you love was not coming home.  Anna just ran from deserted tent to deserted tent calling the names of her closest friends the only thing that answered her cries was the crickets and soft spring breeze rustling the tree tops. 

“Tobias, he’s not here,” panted Anna.  She was half relieved, if Tobias was not here he may be alive, but where was he.  “What have I done?” Anna exclaimed.  Simon was not sure if he should answer, or if the question was just meant to hang in the air, unsettled and mysterious.

A groan came from one of the motionless forms on the ground a few feet from them.  Anna rushed them, and rolled the gasping gypsy onto their side.  Simon, looking over her shoulder, recognized the same man he had watched juggle the swords earlier that day.

“Arthur,” Anna said, her voice barely a whisper.  Arthur’s eyes stared ahead,

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