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	[u]Weather[/u]: Though the sun is now a thing best hinted at by a spot of relatively brighter clouds than those around it. The temperature is not amazingly uncomfortable for the season, although that wind is beginning to make things interesting. [i]Fully Overcast[/i] is the phrase of the hour. Even a novice to the concept of weather might have coming rain on their mind. 

	[u]Time[/u]: Late morning. Not quite lunchtime, though some might have already broken into the builders' tea for that late morning slump. 

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The weather, while almost comfortable, was chased off a section of the less aggressive tourists. This has resulted in a more-or-less even amount of people within the Township while the numbers were expected to increase. Businesses remain doing businesslike things, selling wares and chatting up the clientele with regulated cheerfulness. Everywhere, people engage in small talk about recent events and the weather. Unfortunately, things in this area are becoming quite dark on both fronts, literally and metaphorically as the case stands. The scent of hard-smoked pork is a little bit of everywhere on the western side of the Township; none stronger than in the Farmers' Market, where sits the most diverse collection of local crafts and foodstuff during the most fruitful part of the year. Over in the Traders' Market, the initial morning push has come and gone. With is it the major hustle and bustle, though trades, importing, and (to a lesser extent) exporting are still ongoing. 

	The groupings of wagons and tent circles outside of the walls are tying down loose ropes and making makeshift shelters for their animals, owing to the weather expected to roll in if the sky is casting the appropriate signs. Those temporary merchant stands which sat near to the road were still hawking wares, though with less gusto.   

[center][hider=Township Thoroughfare][img]https://i.ibb.co/MBMn2JN/Overcast-Township.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]
	Marita soundly grabbed enough of the waif's arm to halt his progress. The first thing that might be noticed was the very basic craftsmanship of the rough, brown woolen coat the child wore. This was not a person who came from money. The second thing might be the slender, bony nature of the boy's frame, readily observable by Marita, whose hand was closed around his extremity. 

	The kid was caught and he knew it. Terror flooded over his face, far more than than was appropriate for being caught peering through a window. He struggled and twisted in the stalwart Cleric's grasp, getting more desperate in painfully short seconds. People traversing the main thoroughfare began to notice and look on at the spectacle unfolding, their expressions akin to one idly viewing a pickpocket getting admonished in public. One however, a stocky woman in possibly her early thirties pushing a small, wheeled cart laden with vegetables, blurted out, [color=darkgray]"I think I know that kid! Yeah! Where..?"[/color] 

	Desperation rose to tactile heights in the boy. He was visibly trembling at this time, hair bristling up on his neck. Visibly bristling. And that wasn't all. He whined once and scrambled to pull free, but the sound came out in less of a vocal utterance and more of a muted squeal. He turned to face his captor, and what little light came through the clouds high above reflected a dull red hue from within his eyes. The features of the waif's face shifted just a little, revealing a slightly more elongated nose and sudden protruding of thick, rectangular incisors. Not everyone was capable enough to see these alterations, but those closest took in a collective gasp. One screamed a high pitched, whistling cry. It was an aproned pastry guy named [i]Randy[/i], or so referenced the nametag. [color=darkgray][i]"What did you do to him?"[/i][/color] questioned another. Public reaction to this varied from person to person nearby as some gathered closer and others cleared out as fast as they could, while still others stayed put to see the show. 

	The boy's muscled contracted, seeming to grow denser as he got even thinner, more emaciated. The whole process was less than a handful of seconds. This situation was fast becoming one of confusion, and in this confusion, the kid gave one last, slippery wrench at Marita's hold. 

	He pulled free and darted away between and among the crowd, low to the ground, with unnatural movement - but left his coat behind. 

[center][hider=Near Madame Marcie's Honey Barn][h2][i][b][color=black]Image Not Unlocked Yet[/color][/b][/i][/h2][/hider][/center]
	Cavendish lost his smile of smug satisfaction upon catching sight the pair, Kathryn and Kosara. he listened to what she had to say; took in all of the pleasantries, and all the while kept a wiry and observant look about himself. As Kathryn wrapped up and extended her silver ringed hand, the Constable rested one of his hands on the covered head of his hammer and cocked his head to one side, as if to look behind the two of them. Then he took a glance to nearby windows, the area in general, and back to the very tall woman in front of him. This was not a place that contained a lot of people actively moving about. He ignored the polite offer of a physical greeting, instead opting for an immediate change of subject.

	[color=darkgray][b]"You two ladies are out here alone, aren't you?"[/b][/color] he mused, a gravel voice piping out the syllables. A smile upturned one corner of his mouth which he quickly forced away. [color=darkgray][b]"I've been hearing some things about you. Caused a lot of trouble over at Bob's last night, didn't you? Complaints were made. And I had a nice, quiet town here. Now, a good Constable ought do something about that. Isn't that right, [i]Lady Kathryn Pyke of Arcanaple[/i]?"[/b][/color] The name and title were spoken with the slightest hint of sarcasm, but not so much as to be deniable if pressed about it. [color=darkgray][b]"There's a little park around the corner there. How about we all go and talk about it."[/b][/color] Cavendish glanced at the guards which flanked him at a pace or two, adding, [color=darkgray][b]"What do you think, boys?"[/b][/color] They seemed to silently agree.

	Across the whole of the Avonshire Township, a few lonely, scattered drops of precipitation began to fall earthward.