He hears her and looks down at Vargi. The niffler peeks into his pouch to see what he's lost. He spends a moment rummaging through his pile of treasures before he surrenders and shrugs. Whatever it was, it wasn't that important. Jorg pivots to face her but doesn't stop. He slows, jogging backwards up the slope.

"Keep it!" he calls back to her, grinning from ear to ear, "we've got more."

The stall-holder and his friends appear around the corner of the tavern, huffing and puffing. They've collected a cluster of castle guards on their way. The stall keepers face is the brightest shade of red he's ever seen on a person. Jorg looks back at the woman he'd knocked over.

"I'd either hide it or run if I were you!" he advises her as he turns away, picking up his pace.

"There he is!" someone bellows behind him. "Stop, thief!"

Like that was going to work. When had any self-respecting thief ever stopped just because someone asked them to? Morons.

Jorg twitches his fingers, wrapping himself in a shroud of air. At his urgings it lifts him from the ground, forming an invisible cushion beneath his feet and coiling around his back. There's a light pressure between his shoulder blades and he finds himself being propelled forwards towards the trees at speed. On his shoulder Vargi holds on tight, his little claws digging into the fabric of Jorgs shirt.

Jorg scoops his friend into his hands and holds him safe as they break the line of trees. He ducks and dodges the low-hanging branches as they force their way through. There's no one following him now. He's left them behind. Releasing the wind slowly, Jorg lowers himself to the ground, and he steps neatly off his air-cloud onto the leaf litter with more elegance that any boy his age had any business having. Grinning at his own success he sets Vargi back on his shoulder.

"Hungry, boy?" he asks him, ruffling the hair on the top of the niffler's head with his finger tips. Vargi trills and nods his beak up and down with obvious enthusiasm.

Jorg sits down and flicks back the flap on his bag. He pulls out the sandwiches Svea had made for him that morning and pulls a chunk out of the middle of one. He passes it to Vargi who accepts it reverently, and side-by-side they tuck into their meals.

JORG