Soran looked at this self-proclaimed chicken thief with distaste and a little bit of distrust. It was one thing to have turned thief when one had no other option, but it was quite another to be a thief through one's own choice. Lotar--well, Lotar was a good leader, and Soran respected him for his skills, but he wished that there was another way. He wondered sometimes if Lotar felt the same.
The chicken thief grinned saucily at the older men. Why, he couldn't be more than twenty years old, and here he was, patently more comfortable with stealing than Soran, and certainly in a better mood (though that was hardly difficult, with the black humors Soran tended to fall into lately). He was almost the age of Soran's eldest--no, he would not think of his sons. That road would only lead to despair and he had quite enough of that, thank you very much.
Lotar asked the prospective bandit a few questions, aiming to find out if he was really as good as he said he was or if it was just a youth's bragging most likely. Soran just watched. He had to admire the sheer cheek of the boy, but that didn't mean he had to agree with his morals. Of course, his own morals weren't exactly the highest quality, now were they?
"What's your name?" he asked gruffly, finally breaking the brooding silence he'd been in for most of the past few days. The boy was so young, so much like Rik...
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