Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
Usually, Willow Crush is quiet when I slip out of my bedroom window. The town is in deep slumber as I descend the vines on the south wall, carefully avoiding the window to my parents' chambers.
Sneaking around has become second nature to me. Today, that came in handy.
Between the tree branches, I caught a glimpse of two shapes illuminated by the pale light of the waning moon.
The smaller figure pulled an item from their waistcoat, wrapped in cloth to shield it from spying eyes. As the larger silhouette peeked under the covers, a metallic reflection danced across its face. The tall figure nodded and pulled out a small sack.
Something went awry. The smaller shade threw the sack to the ground to reveal dozens of glistening coins, clamoring — but their voice was silenced when the tall one picked them up by the throat.
The large figure left towards Glennwood's End, but I won't follow. Let sleeping dogs lie, I say...