the fourth objective }} niam

The cold did nothing to deter Tweed’s interest in the bakery that stood across the street. A bitter wind nipped at her threadbare jacket yet her focus remained locked onto the windows, watching the baker and his son mill around as they prepared for a new day of slow business. (Really, how were there enough people with the funds to keep that store going?) She shifted from one foot to the other anxiously and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, clearing her vision of any obstructions.

Today would determine whether or not she would be able to eat properly after four days of scrounging around the dumpsters. (Warm bread – quite the feast and reward for all the painful gnawing an empty belly provides.) Over time she had observed that the baker had rather bad eyesight, always bumping into the counters and knocking things over; the son, however, was a different problem. He was typically the one to greet customers, so Tweed knew she would have to draw his attention away from her for even just a few seconds.

[First Objective: Enter the store and appear as a usual customer.]

Tweed stepped out from behind the alley’s shadows and jogged across the street and into the store, making herself huff and puff as if she had just run the entire way there from home. The bell rang as the door closed and the young boy’s head turned, just as expected. She forced a smile onto her face while she turned around, cheeks red from the cold. “Ah, that wind is a biter,” she said, warming her hands. The boy simply nodded and smiled in return, then asked if he could help her with anything. Tweed politely declined, fabricating the lie that she was just browsing to see what her few measly coins would get her. The baker’s son almost jumped at the chance to begin rattling off their most inexpensive items but she quickly stopped him. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

(Second Objective: Find something to distract the baker’s son.]

When he returned to aid his father she turned her back and slowly walked around, looking in all the small places behind the barrels and racks for anything that might be useful. Behind a stack of twisted wheat bread she saw a pebble – she purposefully dropped a coin and it clanged against the wooden floor, so she bent down to get it and swiped up the pebble also. With a neutral expression on her face she turned back around and saw both the bakers not facing her direction. The pebble rolled between her fingers and she threw it quickly, striking a rack of metal pins and utensils and knocking it all over. Each one landed with a loud bang and both the men jumped, startled.

[Third Objective: Take items. Escape unnoticed.]

Tweed immediately snatched up two loaves of twisted bread and shoved them down into her jacket, hurriedly moving out the door as the nearly-blind baker began swearing loudly. The warmth radiating off the bread and the thrill of a successful steal stimulated her enough to keep her going at a brisk walk back into the alley, satisfaction exploding internally but not displaying on her face. She came to a stop only when she was certain no one was following her, and even then she held her breath and listened closely, hearing no footsteps approaching.

Only then did a light smirk grace Tweed’s face.

She sat cross-legged on the damp, cold ground and pulled out one loaf of bread, quickly tearing off a piece and shoving it into her mouth. It had undoubtedly been made and baked that very morning and the divine taste proved it. Another piece was torn off and she eagerly ate it, and then she began to pull apart the twisted bread like the starving animal she felt she had become for the time being.