Vargi creeps across the grass keeping his belly close to the ground and his head low. He keeps to the shadows, allowing his dark fur to disguise him and freezes just short of the table leg. The store keeper turns around to fetch a paper bag from the back of his tent. Jorg holds his breath. He's lying on his stomach in the dirt peering under the back canvas of the stall.

Ignorant to anything amiss, the shop keeper turns back to his customer with a salesman's smile.

The niffler relaxes again and makes the last few strides to the table leg. As soon as he reaches it he starts to climb, scurrying up the wood to the top. The flat surface is covered in all sorts of precious and semi-precious gems and striking crystals. They all glisten, gleam and shine. Vargi peers around, momentarily spoiled for choice.

Jorg smothers a laugh as Vargi concludes that the best solution to not being able to pick his favourites, is just to stuff everything he can get his paws on into his pouch so he could decide later. The downside to this tactic is that it makes rather a lot of noise.

The stall-keeper spins around, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. The niffler holds his position, his little eyes wide. He waits. The stall-keeper goggles...and then everything seems to happen at once.

Lunging forwards the stall-keeper reaches out a grasping hand to snatch the niffler off the table. Vargi, alarmed, stuffs the gem he's holding into his pouch before promptly biting his attacker's finger. As the man howls with pain, Vargi slips down the table leg like a fireman descending his pole, and starts to run across the floor. He slides out and under the tent canvas on his stomach. Jorg is waiting for him on the other side. He scoops his friend up and pops him onto his shoulder.

The shop keeper was roars with pain and rage and comes staggering after Vargi breathing like a winded rhino. He tears back the tent flap and turns an even darker shade of puce as his eyes settle on Jorg.

"YOU!" he fumes, balling his hands into fists.

Jorg waves at him, grinning broadly.

"I'll ring your scrawny neck!" the shop keeper bellows. Everyone in the market turns to stare at them. It was a perfect opportunity for a sneak thief to pick some pockets - no one is paying attention to anything but the howling man and the grinning boy.

Jorg decides not to push his luck. He turns on his heel and makes a run for it, weaving his way expertly through the crowds. A few people try to grab him as he slips past them, but through a combination of speed, good luck and magic, he manages to shake them off.

He picks up his pace as he leaves the market square and sprints as quickly as he can in the direction of the forest. He's so eager to escape that he doesn't notice the woman coming out of the tavern until it's too late. They collide, forced apart by the impact and land unceremoniously in the dirt.

"Sorry, Miss!" Jorg shouts as he scrabbles back to his feet. He offers her a mocking little bow and then turns on his heel to start running again.

JORG