I walk cheerfully beside Micah, although I'm completly alert. We head into the town's market, reading to sell. The smell in the pawn shop is cigars and dust, but it doesn't faze me. We walk up to the surly shopkeeper, and set the cup on his desk.
"How much?" Micah asks.
"Well, about $500." the shopkeeper says.
"I wasn't born yesterday. That thing is real gold." Micah replies.
The shopkeeper glares softly at Micah before putting on glasses and examining the cup. "Well, I'll be damned." he says with clear shock.
"Now, how much?"
"2,000."
"No."
"10,000."
"Are you kidding?"
"1,000,000." the man is exasperated.
"Deal." Micah says.
He sticks out his hand, and the keeper gives him the money. "No matter, I'll be getting it all back later."
I see Micah's hand clench tightly. And suddenly, out of a dozen hiding spots burst out guards. "You couldn't exclude us forever, child. You will be severly punished." a guard says.
Immediatly, both Micah and I are in fighting postions. Together, we take out the guards, and dash out of the store, running through the maze of people and stands. "Come on! We're almost to the train station." I cry to Micah.
Finally, we make it. We hop into an open boxcar. Micah checks back. "No one followed us."
"I bet not, you practically killed them!" I say laughing. "So, did you get all the money?"
"You know it." he pulls it from the pocket of his hoodie.
"Great! We can get a new messenger bag, they're better."
Micah laughs as he settles himself. "What's the difference?"
"Messenger bags are just cooler sounding." I reply.
He shakes his head and we both laughing. Knowing we're safe for now.
Meanwhile, back at the store...
The guards slowly rouse themselves. "Damn, that little girl can fight." one mutters.
Another turns to the pawn man. "We'll be needing that cup back." he says.
The man hands him the cup. "Will I be getting my money back?"
"No."
