[Child of the 7th Age]

Garlin was at least a bit more sober than the last time he'd stumbled into the camp. He'd reached the convey by late afternoon, and had hidden under the cover of the surrounding trees, scanning the camp with weary eyes to locate a prize worthy of his attention. He'd caught a glimpse of one or two interesting things in the section of the camp that he hadn't investigated before: the horses and wagons near the front of the procession. He made a note of several rich items in his head, promising to come back later.

But there was one group of children whose words and play caught his attention. They were poking their fingers into the side of a hefty bag that gave off an enticing jingle, presumably because it held their father's store of cash. One-by-one, the children stuck their fists into the pouch and came away waving their hands gleefully in the air, their fingers curled tightly about one or more precious coins.

Garlin's jaw dropped in amazement. The treasures they were holding were not coppers, or even silver coins, but gleaming pieces of gold. It was all Garlin could do to stop himself from instantly leaping out of the bushes and seizing the bag.

Garlin made his way back into camp under cover of nightfall, retracing his path to the same spot where the children had been playing earlier. The fools had left the bag in clear view on the front seat of the wagon. He reached down and grabbed the bulging bag, hoisting it up into his arms and then tucking it under his ragged jacket......