It had been dark for hours when the trap was finally sprung.
Naomi was comfortably nestled in the branches of a great tree when it happened. Gael had offered to make a hammock from some of rope and the wide, sturdy squares of metweave their backpacks contained, but she'd refused. She wasn't sure she could get out of the thing in time to catch their thief. They'd placed the trap on a lower branch, somewhere she could reach at a moment's notice provided she didn’t need to escape a hammock first.
There was a startled huff of breath, a furious chittering, and a yelp of surprise quickly followed by a loud thump.
The idea came when she’d found the creature while foraging. They'd argued about what the creature was when she caught it, but all agreed it was a perfect surprise to leave their thief. Getting it in the bag hadn't been easy: though it hadn't been able to break through her enhanced skin, the bites still left vivid bruises all over Naomi's hands. Still, the trouble was obviously worth it: the creature had been furious to go in the bag, but from the sound of things it had been even less pleased to come out.
Naomi rolled forward on her branch and dropped, letting her new body carry her to her target. As she fell, the striped tail of their unwilling bait vanished into the brush as the creature beat an indignant retreat.
The thief was already coming to their feet, but before they could turn to flee she was on them. Her hands moved in trained, whipcord rhythm toward the thief’s wrist. However, her target was even faster. In a blur, the thief’s hand recoiled while the other drew a knife and thrust toward her eyes. She ducked, but their thrust had been a feint. She cursed silently as the thief’s knee came up and caught a glancing blow to her chin.
It wasn’t enough. Naomi barely felt it, but didn’t let surprise slow her down. Planting herself, she seized the thief’s foot and hauled with every bit of her new strength. Perhaps it was the training, perhaps not, but she was stronger than either of her friends. The thief yelped in surprise as they cartwheeled into the air, crashing hard into one of the great trees before toppling back to earth.
Only to land on their feet, grin, and turn to run.
Before they took more than a few steps, Wynn appeared around the trunk, blade in hand. The thief paused, considering. Wynn flicked the knife toward Naomi “finish what you started, friend.”
The thief turned to head the other way and spotted Gael smiling politely from the shadows.
“Dirt move, rat’n t’food,” the thief said as the three closed around them.
“Squirrel, actually,” Gael said. “Fluffy tail.”
“I’m telling you, it’s a raccoon!” Wynn insisted. “It’s too big to be a squirrel and it had a mask.”
“But Naomi found it in a tree.” Gael countered reasonably as he edged closer to the thief. “How many things lived in old Earth trees?”
“There weren’t just squirrels on Earth-That-Was, Gael.”
“Guys, focus.” Naomi said.
“We are focusing,” Gael replied. “Father said talking during work keeps it interesting.”
“Borin’ work I?” The thief asked as they put their back to the tree and faced the three of them. The thief was pale as Wynn but shorter than any of them, wiry even compared to their lean frames. Dark eyes flicked from face to face, calculating.
The others blinked at the thick accent, but Wynn only shrugged. “Your choice. You can be work for three or practice for one. Neither of us can match her in hand to hand. It’s your turn. Put away the knife and get back in there. Call it payment for the food.”
The thief eyed Naomi warily. “If I return t’food, fair?”
“Don’t be a waster,” Naomi said, sheathing her knife and raising her hands. “Beat me and you can leave.”
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The thief sighed and put their own blade away. “If I lose?”
She smiled and beckoned with a finger.
The thief came forward gamely enough, testing Naomi with short jabs. She ducked two, slapped a third aside and fetched a light backhand to their jaw. Scowling, they threw a punch at her, seized the blocking arm and threw her off center, fetching a tapping kick to her chest with dazzling speed. The two of them exchanged a humorless baring of teeth, then went at it in earnest.
“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Gael asked, watching as the blows steadily grew harder. “Mother hated fighting, and this looks more like a fight than a spar.”
“It was her idea,” Wynn said.
Naomi found herself admiring the little thief even as she took blows from them. It was a feral sort of fighting, different from anything she’d trained against but still brutal and effective. Had there been a knife in the thief’s hands she didn’t think she could have won, but unarmed…
She tackled the thief to the ground, spinning and pinning them in one deft motion. She rapped her knuckles on the back of their head for emphasis. “We’re done.” She smiled happily. “You’re better than either of them. Good fight!”
“Good fight,” the thief gasped. “Train’t fight f’points, yah?”
Naomi blinked, and that was all the opening the thief needed. In a flash their positions had reversed, the thief’s little hand clenched around a rock and raised to bring down on her skull. “Train’t fightin’ f’life, I.”
Gael was on the thief in a flash, hauling them back and calling for Wynn’s help. Naomi rose in a hissing fury but stopped when she saw them tying the thief up. They weren’t resisting, just grinning smugly.
“Where did you learn that knot, Gael?”
"Mother said it was for both the good times and the bad,” Gael said conversationally. "I never was sure what she meant by that."
Naomi glanced at Wynn, but they only shook their head with a small smile. "They’re wasteful," she snarled. "I say we flush them."
"What are they wasting? And what is flushing?"
"I mean they’re full of waste, Gael. When you have waste, you flush it for reprocessing. You know, waste? What comes out of you after you eat?"
"She's saying our thief is full of shit," Wynn supplied.
“Ah,” Gael nodded. " Mother said that of father all the time. Told him to put it over the side."
"Is that what we should do with them? Put them over the side?"
"Bleak talk," said the thief. "C’n I talk?"
"It better not be wasteful," Gael said. “You’ve spent a week robbing us. You could have introduced yourself and spared yourself this trouble. You could have lost the fight with grace. Please explain.”
“Want t’see what y’do,” the thief said. “Not only group I seen. Just nicest.”
That pulled them all up short.
“Two more,” the thief said. “Met one, saw t’other, watch’t all. Been here since before I. Fightin’ whole time, no better than t’gangs back home.” They nodded at Gael. “Saw y’come down t’cliff. Saw y’save her, saw topper try t’save her from’y. Watch’t y’spar, listen’t y’talk. Good folk.”
“If you thought that, why not approach us directly?” Naomi asked.
“Fun,” they said, grinning. “Habit. Don’t believe I, check t’bags.”
“Wait, what bags?” Wynn asked, then blinked. “Where is your backpack?
“Forty yards,” the thief gestured with their chin. “Tree.”
“I’ll go,” Naomi said. “I don’t trust this waster. If I’m not back in a few, I say he goes over the side.”
“Agreed,” Gael said, then turned and gently shoved the thief in the chest. “Flush.”
For the first time, the thief looked a little uncertain. They eyed Gael a moment, then turned back to Naomi. “Big, fork’t tree, expose’t roots. Patch a thorny bushes between here n’ there. Bags tied over t’first branches, can’t miss. Fair?”
Naomi turned to Gael, grinning. “You’re scary when you need to be.”
Gael nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
She came back quickly, two backpacks and a large metweave sack in hand. “Busy little guy,” she said. “What is all this?”
“Food, mostly,” the thief said. “Metweave, lifepac, rope. Knife, even.” They nodded at one of the backpacks. “Y’food.”
Wynn took the bag from Naomi and rummaged inside. “Most of it’s here, there’s only a little missing.”
“Always been gettin’ by an little, topper.” The thief gave Wynn an unpleasant smile. “Saving t’buy into y’group. Guess that’s changed.”
“You keep calling Wynn topper,” Gael asked. “What is that?”
“It’s supposed to be offensive,” Wynn said wearily. “They’re from home: one of the slums on the spire base, you can tell by the way they talk.” Their voice took on the same shadings that the thief used. “Don’t matter. Topper, slum rat, behind us. Martyrs, fair?”
“Plucking bait from the hook!” Gael said. “Very good.”
“Thank you.”
Gael turned to the thief with a polite smile. “Wynn’s in no mood to be offended, and neither am I. Father said that good intentions go a long way. Despite your manners I think you have good intentions, yes?” Gael turned to Naomi, who scowled but nodded. The thief stared uncertainly.
Wynn sighed and freed them with a few deft tugs. “Not sure why we bothered with this, then. Perhaps if you introduced yourself?”
“Tyver, Son of Lapis VII.” He rubbed his wrists and eyed the trees, then settled back to his seat. “From t’slums. Martyrs all, fair.”
Gael offered his hand to the little thief. “Can I interest you in a hot meal, fair?”
Tyver blinked, then took the hand with a smile. “Fair!”