Ellie pulls to a stop and watches, head cocked, brows furrowed, as the boy pauses for two heartbeats, then continues his mad dash away from the small mob that’s jostling after him. She wishes she was so brave at his age - if this had happened to her she would have fallen, sobbing, to the ground, begging for forgiveness. Not that she would have ever found herself in this situation at that age; she’s almost amazed that she is here, now, clutching a stolen jewel. She risks a glance at the men behind her, but they seem to be solidly ignoring her, and so she slips the gem into a pocket.
Flo winks at her.

She needs it to get back to the boy, she convinces herself, though only half-heartedly. She has to follow him, because the crowd doesn’t give up when he is lifted into the clouds and beyond the trees; in fact, it serves only to enrage them more, and some of the group even manage to pick up speed. Ellie dips off the the side, past the back of the tavern and towards the woods on a different path, allowing her tracking power to pull her towards the boy. He expected to give her the slip, too, though it was merely an unintentional byproduct of the matter at hand; luckily she can find him, and warn him that the mob is crying out for his head.
It’s rather an over-dramatic scene, she giggles, 15 grown men chasing a small boy.

It only takes her a few minutes, to navigate through the close-knit trees, and to find him, sitting, the picture of innocence with his familiar settled beside him. She watches him, quietly, for just a moment, before she pushes through the leaves with the jewel held out in front of her. “You can take this back, I don’t want it. I don’t think I can shake them off like that,” she grins, though she doesn’t mention, just yet, that in fact he hasn’t quite managed to get them off his scent. “How did you manage to snatch this? I thought that stall-keeper was notorious for his eagle-eyed-vision.” She laughs. She recognised the man as he came ambling towards her, remembered a story that one of Henry’s companions told one night, of trying to sneak a gem from the very same man.

A distant cracking of branches and raised voices reminds her of why she followed him in the first place. “Quick,” she says, gesturing back towards the narrow path she took, “they’re on their way.” She doesn’t know where they can go, not just yet, but there’s something in the twinkle of the boy’s eye that intrigues her, and she wonders if he could give her some tips. He nearly got caught, but to get as close to away as he did, he must have been doing something right. Maybe she can learn what.