He looks up as the grasses and shrubs to his left begin to rustle and quake. His hand darts to the grip of his dagger. The men from the market couldn't possibly have caught up with him yet, but the forest is filled with all kinds of creatures. Some of them even have a fondness for sandwiches.

A young woman steps out of the foliage, her blue eyes glinting like the gem clasped tightly in Vargi's greedy little paws. Jorg considers her, taking in her expression and the positioning of her body. She doesn't appear to mean him any harm. Taking advantage of the lull, he pushes the last of his sandwich into his mouth greedily.

She slips the gem Vargi had dropped out of her pocket and holds it out to them on an open hand. Jorg frowns at her. He stops his niffler from diving on her, as he tries to work out what she's up to. No one has ever given him stolen goods back before. Again, he decides there's little harm in her, and releases Vargi. The niffler leaps into action straight away, closing the gap between them and the woman he climbs her leg unceremoniously and scuttles the length of her arm. Snatching up the gem he stuffs it into his pouch and trill-purrs his contentment.

Jorg throws the woman a sharp-toothed grin.

Climbing to his feet, he dusts his hands off against his trousers.

"He's a doddering old fool," he laughs, "and greedy too. He gets distracted trying to con his customers. Half the stuff he tries to flog isn't even real." Jorg shrugs his shoulders, gesturing at Vargi. The niffler's curled up in the sleepy ball on the woman's hand, snoring softly. "Unfortunately for him, me and Vargi aren't that fussy."

The sound of the crowd crashing through the trees is audible now. Jorg rolls his eyes. They didn't stand a hope in hell. And, what could they possibly do even if they caught him? His father would be on them in a heartbeat. Really, he was doing them a favour, making them all look like idiots.

Not that it was hard.

"I'm not worried," he tells the woman. He walks over to her and scoops up Vargi. He tips the niffler into the pocket of his shirt. Vargi shuffles a little, making the fabric wobble, but doesn't wake up.

"Are you up for a bit of fun?" Jorg asks, struck by a thought. Without waiting for an answer, he shrugs off his bag and hides it in a patch of long grass. He takes Vargi back out of his pocket and tucks him up in the bag instead, closing the top-flap of the satchel carefully. He doesn't lock it. Vargi likes a good through-draft.

Straightening up, Jorg smiles back up at Ellie.

"A man in a tavern taught me a really good word once," he explains, "imp-rov-is-ation...it means, making things up as you go along." His smile widens into a grin. "Let's see what you've got."

Jorg shifts easily from boy to wolf. His parents have always told him it was his first ever act of magic. One moment he was a baby sleeping in his crib, and the next a golden wolf-cub slumbered beneath the blankets. He pads over to Ellie and curls up at her feet. He wraps his tail around his back haunches like a dog might and closes his distinctive eyes.

Good luck, lady.

JORG