What do you think?
It was the damned knife.
The main street of Cheer hummed with the hustle and bustle of the monthly market day. This was one of the few times when the people of Cheer truly mingled. Women displaying their curves with cinched in waists below elegant necklines, and men in pressed shirts and trousers held up with suspenders and decorated with a pocket watch, shared the street with men and women too late to make their fortune. The dominant colour was brown, with splashes of red, blue or yellow marking a lady of class, or girl prospecting for a trick.
A woman looked up from her knitting to smile and nod at passing ladies and gentlemen who perused her collection of crafts ranging from scarves to glass decorations and various items of jewellery.
A merchant’s voice cut across the crowd, inviting visitors to try his spiced meats, inspired by his home country’s regular fare. The mouthwatering aromas brought people from the other end of the street into the throng surrounding his sizzling offerings.
Llewella was invisible amongst the finery and silent amongst the propositioning. In a ruddy white shirt and russet trousers she slid by unnoticed, slipping a fine gold watch deep into her pocket. And then she saw it. The beautifully carved bone handle.
Her eyes trailed the handle everywhere it went. Her feet followed. The rest of her body entwining its way between people and stalls. The hip and thigh stopped. Two more stealthy steps, and Llewella stopped, too. Her hand twitched. Finely-honed muscles tensed. She stepped in close. If she allowed herself to breathe, he might have known she was there. But she didn’t.