Azelma was pinned to the wall of the alley. Eponine held her there by her neck.
"Where's the money, Azelma?" she asked, low and threatening.
Tears streamed down the younger girl's face and she coughed feebly from Eponine's grip on her throat.
"Where?!"
Eponine released her and she fell to the ground in a heap. Coughing and gasping, Azelma handed her sister a few sous she dug out of her coat pocket. Eponine stared at the pittance in her hand.
"Where's the rest?" Her eyes were still alight with fury, but the otherworldly growl in her voice had lessened.
From the ground where she cowered Azelma said faintly, "I ate it." To that child, her sister seemed ten feet tall and full of malice from her prone position. Slight and wiry, angry and threatening, she was overwhelmed by this vision of her sister as her father.
"You ate it?" she barked.
"I bought some bread. Only some! I swear it! That's the rest of the money back to you there. It's plenty for a bit of something."
Eponine closed her hand around the coins and motioned for her sister to stand before stalking down the alley back toward the boulevard. Just before the end where the alley threatened to spit them back out into the crowd, she halted. Azelma stood cautiously behind and waited. Eponine thought for a moment, then turned and grinned at her sister. It was not a grin of forgiveness, rather more conniving than that, but the small girl preferred it to the evil scowl she'd seen just moments earlier.
"The way it looks to me, you owe me some money," Eponine said casually.
Azelma said nothing.
"Since you've no problem stealing from your own blood sister, you ought to be able to pinch one of those uppity bastards easy enough." With that she shoved her sister into the crowd and retreated to the shadows to watch. Azelma, however, scurried back to the alley immediately.
"Can't I just beg it? I'm no good at stealing, 'Ponine."
"Funny, you seemed awful good at it just before," she said. Tears formed in Azelma's eyes. "Oh, come off it! You better learn stealing from strangers, because the next time you steal from me you won't be handing me your change, I'll be fishing it out of your dead little hand. I'm through being the workhorse around here. You pinch a pocketbook or I tell papa you took all the begging money and spent it on cakes for your fat little face. God, if you weren't so bloody useless!"
Fury still swirled in Eponine. This tiny creature that brought her down. This girl who hid while she took scores of beatings. This child who skulked around and dropped off letters while she sold herself body, mind and soul to support these fools she didn't like or love. The resentment, the anger, it burned through her entire body while the smoke poured out of her glaring eyes.
Azelma bowed her head and trudged back toward the bustle. Standing on the fringes of the crowd, she watched cautiously. Everyone seemed to be going too fast. She didn't even know where someone would keep a purse. She was certain she'd be caught. These were no idle Parisians. They moved swiftly, they were hyper-aware of their pockets and packages. Still feeling Eponine's burning gaze on her she threw herself into the crowd and began to walk with them. Struggling to keep up, she anxiously thrust her hand into the coat pocket of a thin, nattily dressed young man and quickly withdrew clutching something. She did not pause to inspect the object, but took off running back toward the alley, dodging the people like raindrops.
When she arrived, breathless, she slumped against the wall and handed the object to Eponine, who set about inspecting it immediately. It was indeed a purse. Brown, made of sturdy but worn fabric. It was not overly fully, but the harvest was adequate for a first try.
Eponine was, in spite of herself, impressed with the little one's beginner's luck. Not one to give credit where it's due, she reminded herself that her useless sister was bound to fail at a second try. Over think it, hesitate, linger. One good grab did not give the girl talent and so Eponine would not praise luck. Anyone could get lucky.
"This is better than nothing," she said and pocketed the coins.
She headed for the boulevard herself, ready to enjoy the warm broth she'd dreamed of all day. Azelma followed. When they reached the street Eponine carelessly tossed aside the purse. "No sense keeping nothing incriminating on us," she said.
Behind her a thin, nattily dressed young man rushed toward the discarded object. "My purse!"