The alley reeked of rotting fish and desperation as Ophilia pressed her back against the slimy brick wall, three thugs closing in with ugly grins. "Please, I'm sorry about the bread, I was just so hungry—" She glanced down at the bundle of rags tucked behind a crate. *Stay hidden, Wickers. Please stay hidden.* The largest thug cracked his knuckles, his breath reeking of cheap ale. "My da says you've been stealing from his stall for weeks, street rat. Time to pay up." *Just another beating. I can...