"Ouch!" Teague had frozen mid-step, wincing hard. He lifted his foot to see that a branch rendered the last of his footwear to nothing but hide.
His clothes were hanging thin, too, barely by the seam, but that was an issue he knew for a while. He gave a nervous chew of his lips. He didn't particularly care if he was reduced to nudity, but he was sure everyone else would. And while he loved attention – he liked mocking and scorn a little less.
Now barefoot, he strolled into the village, conflicted. Some innate part of him told him to affect an extreme act of casualty, like that it was perfectly normal for a wild boy to roam around townships, but acting was difficult to grasp. More accurately, it was difficult for him to tone it down.
But he needed to be somewhat inconspicuous if he wanted to pickpocket with relative success.
After a show of glancing around, he caught the back of his first target. He couldn't tell from behind their gender or class, but they were alone. Some thieves would've preferred a crowd, but Teague thought his chances of being caught were slimmer if he rushed him or her, grabbed either their belongings or the gold in their pockets, and dashed off into or behind a hut. He or she would have to shout for back-up, as opposed to it automatically being there.
So he clamored up behind the person in question, then his hand lurched forward and dipped – fully intending on snatching whatever was on their belt or in their pocket – but before he could even feel for a knapsack of any sort, he saw with great horror and shock a hand grabbing his by the wrist.
He was pretty sure he was gaping, his eyes wide when the person turned to look at him. After a beat he busted out with a winner, "Y-yer tunic's singed, miss!!"
