The morning had barely touched the edges of the rooftops when Rowan appeared walking along the village's main path. He wore his most ordinary clothes: simple pants, a slightly worn linen shirt, and a light coat that helped hide his build. Every time he returned, he changed quickly before entering the village. No one should suspect his nightly activities.
The villagers already recognized him, though he never tried to draw attention.
"Good morning, Rowan," greeted a lumberjack while carrying a massive log.
"Good morning," he replied, offering a half-smile.
The greetings were simple, yet they gave him a strange feeling… like belonging to a place that wasn't his.
A few more steps, and he heard children laughing. Before turning around, he already knew what was coming.
"Rowan, Rowan, look at this!" shouted a boy running toward him with a branch in hand as if it were a sword.
"I told you he'd come back today!" added another, trying to mimic a heroic pose.
Rowan took a deep breath. The kids always found him.
"What are you doing up so early?" he asked, placing his bag on the ground.
"We're practicing fights, like the ones you have on your trips," announced the oldest with a wide grin.
"I don't fight that much," Rowan replied, but the kids didn't seem to believe him.
"Will you teach us how to climb again?" asked a little girl, gently tugging at his coat.
He looked around. No one seemed bothered.
"Just for a bit. But no climbing on roofs this time."
The kids cheered loudly as they dragged him toward a large tree near the plaza. Rowan showed them how to place their feet, where to grip, how to stay balanced. Nothing dangerous—just the basics he'd learned out of necessity.
While they took turns climbing, Rowan sat under the tree's shade. The smallest girl, the one who always seemed to watch him closely, approached with something in her hands.
"Rowan…" she said timidly. "I made this for you."
She held out a bracelet woven with red and blue threads. It had no fancy decorations or metals, just knots and a child's patience.
Rowan blinked, surprised.
"For me?"
She nodded firmly.
"It's an amulet. So nothing happens to you when you disappear for days."
He took it carefully. He couldn't remember the last time someone gave him something without asking for anything in return.
"Thank you… I'll take care of it," he said, his voice softer than expected.
"Rowan! It's your turn to catch us!" another child shouted from the tree.
Rowan stood up.
"All right, get ready," he said, and the kids scattered, laughing.
For a few minutes, the village felt like a small refuge far from everything his life really was.
That afternoon, as the sun set, Rowan walked toward the outskirts. In his pocket, he could still feel the bracelet he hadn't dared to put on. There, beneath the denser trees, Lyra awaited him.
She stood leaning against a trunk, arms crossed, a full bag at her feet.
"You're late," she said without looking at him. "With the kids again?"
"It's inevitable. They find me," he answered with a shrug.
Lyra scoffed, amused.
"You should be more careful. If they get suspicious, our safe zone is gone."
"I don't give them any reason," Rowan replied. "And I'd never steal from them."
"Yes, yes, I know. 'Thieves, but with principles.'" Lyra threw on a dark cloak. "So? Ready? Today we're hitting a goods depot. More guards, more risk… and better pay."
Rowan nodded.
"I've been practicing. I don't make as much noise when picking locks anymore," he said while checking his tools.
Lyra raised a brow.
"I hope so. Last time you almost got caught because you coughed."
"There was dust in my throat," he muttered.
"Excuses." She smirked. "Let's go."
Night fell like a heavy blanket. At the back of the depot, two guards chatted carelessly. Rowan and Lyra observed from behind a low wall.
"You go through the high window," Lyra whispered. "I'll distract the guard on the left."
Rowan swallowed. Months ago, he would've trembled. Now, he breathed deeply, calculated, waited.
"Understood," he murmured.
As soon as Lyra threw a rock to make noise far away, one guard moved to investigate. Rowan ran, jumped, and pushed himself up toward the window as if he had done it a hundred times. He didn't crash or slip. His body responded more precisely than before.
Inside, the depot was filled with crates and chests. Rowan opened two, choosing only the valuable items. He'd learned to spot fakes. Learned to take only what merchants wouldn't miss right away.
When he met back up with Lyra, she whistled.
"Not bad for a formerly clumsy butterfingers."
"I've improved," Rowan said with a half-smile.
"So it seems."
They returned to the forest, checking the loot under the dim moonlight.
"Rowan," Lyra said suddenly. "You've changed. Before, you shook when you heard footsteps. Now you analyze, choose, act."
Rowan stayed silent for a moment.
"I guess I had to. If I don't learn… I don't survive."
Lyra laughed softly.
"You'll be better than me at this rate."
He shook his head.
"I'm just following your example."
There was a moment of calm. The wind rustled the branches. No danger in sight.
"You're going back to the village tomorrow, right?" Lyra asked.
"Yeah. I can't stay away too long. They start asking questions."
"You've got talent for living two lives," she commented, glancing at him.
Rowan looked down at the bracelet in his hand.
"I wish I could stick to just one."
Lyra said nothing, but for the first time, she looked at him with a different expression: a mix of respect… and a bit of worry.
"Come on, rookie," she said at last. "Let's finish the count."
Rowan put the bracelet away carefully. Tomorrow he'd return to the village, smile, play with the kids… and then return to the night, where the shadows waited.
That was his life. At least for now.