It strikes you that this might not be a good idea.

The two guards aren’t moving very quickly, and the crowd parts around them a little as they go, so it isn’t hard for you to catch up. You can see the coinpurse jingling along on the shorter guard’s hip, and fall into pace just a few steps behind him. Unfortunately, that gap in the crowd would work against you when you finally made the attempt at theft, though. Everyone around you would be able to see you stepping into that empty space behind the guards, and besides, how were you going to actually lift the coinpurse? You could theoretically cut it free from his belt with Soulscar, but you weren’t very Skilled with your weapon yet, and you had no Skill with sleight of hand or pickpocketing or anything like that. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea?

Just as you are beginning to come around to the idea of tabling this particular stunt, someone makes the decision for you. A burst of pain and a notification that you have taken 12 damage blindsides you and sends you tumbling to the ground, as another, heavier form flops down on top of you.

“Oh, goodness,” Your assailant gasps, almost sounding apologetic, “I’m sorry, dear, sometimes I can be so clumsy.” Before you can muster up a reply, she leans down close to hiss in your ear, “Play nice, hon, we don’t want those guards getting any ideas.”

Her advice is sound, and makes it apparent that this wasn’t an accidental collision. You stifle the urge to shove her off and decide to play along, allowing her to slowly guide you to your feet carefully and gently, but with an iron grip on your upper arm to discourage any thoughts of fleeing.

On your feet, you finally get a chance to look at her. Golden eyes and sharp teeth behind her gentle smile inform you that she’s Wolven, currently shapechanged to her more humanoid appearance. She’s fairly plump and curvy, with dark brown hair and a v-necked blouse that displays plenty of cleavage. You would guess her age to be somewhere in her late thirties or early forties, but you’ll admit to not being sure.

The guards have paused their patrol, and the crowd has drawn away from where you and your assailant are standing, and you can feel dozens of people staring at you. It makes you feel a little uncomfortable, but you don’t want to make any sudden moves. Fortunately, the Wolven lady seems to have things under control.

“Oh, look, I gave you a bit of a scrape,” She coos, patting your sore shoulder, “Here, why don’t I take you to my place, we can get you all patched up and let these fine officers get back to work, hmmm?”

With a last, tentative look at the guards, you nod your agreement to the Wolven lady, and allow her to slowly guide you away. The shorter guard grumbles something unintelligible to his partner, and the two continue on their patrol, while the crowd parts to let you and your escort through.

Once you’re no longer the center of attention, she leans in to whisper, “You must be desperate and stupid to resort to stealing from those guards. Do you know what they would have done to you if I hadn’t intervened?”

“Wait,” You ask, “How did you know I was thinking about—“

“You’re not the first cat I’ve met, hon. Anyone could see the way your ears were twitching and your tail was swaying,” She explained, “You were stalking, getting ready to pounce.”

“Huh.” You hadn’t given it much thought, yet, but your tail does seem to passively react to your emotional state. With some effort, you find that you can control it, but you can only imagine how foolishly naive you must appear right now.

“Hmph. Are you truly desperate enough for coin that you were willing to throw your life away?” The woman stops before a well-maintained building with red doors, and ushers you inside.

“The money wasn’t for me,” You try to explain, “Those guards stole it first! I just—“

“Just wanted to be caught, beaten, raped, then thrown in prison? Not a very good plan, little stray.” Finally releasing her grip on your arm, the Wolven lady shoves you into a chair and walks behind the bar. The building she brought you to appears to be some kind of tavern, though not an active one at the moment. An elf girl with a broom is tidying up at the other end of the room, but aside from her, it’s just you and…

“Um, what’s your name, Miss?” You ask, still not sure whether or not you should just make a break for it while she’s distracted.

“Old fashioned, huh?” She asks, pulling ingredients out of cupboards, “Name’s Jackie, but most of the girls here just call me ‘Mom.’ Ah, here we go.” The last ingredient was a small green leaf, which she adds to her mortar. She spends a couple minutes noisily pestling, then returns to your side with the completed poultice. Your arm does sting, still, and a look at your health bar shows a thin strip of dark red at the end, which your Patron-given knowledge informs you is a wound.

If you’re going to make a run for it, you may as well let her treat you first, so you helpfully hold out your scraped shoulder and let her get to work.

“Sootheleaf, bit of alcohol, a few herbs, and a Bloodberry,” She explains, beginning to dab your wound with the wet concoction. You wince at the sting but allow her to continue. “Tried learning proper Vivimancy a few times, but it wasn’t meant to be. Still, a simple poultice works just as well for simple wounds.” The poultice in place, Jackie hands you a rag and you hold it over the wound. “Now that that’s taken care of, though, mind telling me your story, little stray?”

Your story, right. You were hoping to have a little more time to explore before coming up with a backstory and alibi. Well, you don’t have to flesh it all out right now; a simple background will suffice. “I’m, um, Lucy. An orphan, I guess. I thought the city would be a good place to, um, start over after my dad died.” It’s short, sympathetic, and explains how unfamiliar you are with the local atmosphere. You give yourself a mental pat on the back for quickly putting together such an elegant lie.

“I believe you’re new to the city, at least,” Jackie sighs, getting up to put away her tools and dispelling your confidence. Clearly you need more practice lying. “Fortunately for you,” She says, “I’m not the type to stand idly by while another girl throws her life away. Can you work?”

“What kind of work?” You ask cautiously, “I, um, don’t have a lot of experience.”

“I’m not trying to throw you upstairs or out to the wolves just yet,” Jackie assures you, “Gods know I could use more whores, but since you’re clearly comfortable working outside of the law, and you could obviously use the money, I have some… chores that might appeal to you.”