Bright eyes peered out from behind the shadowed edge of a large hooded cloak, as the rain began to subside into a gentle shower the large market again began to bustle with activity - as crowds filed in through the main four large entrance ways.
The large expanse was filled with rows of stalls that surrounded the edges of the square, while the main floor was covered with makeshift stores - sometimes just a rug with what wears were available strewn across, with the sudden rush of activity seller's began to call out what goods they carried in an attempt to gain a shoppers attention.
The market was enclosed within large rock walls, the backs of massive buildings where wealthier merchants owned the land and buildings - they used to show their wears and entertain their customers, nothing as primitive as you'd find this side of the wall.
The street sellers were all poor in comparison to the rich merchants, that afforded the buildings that surrounded the large market - but all were there for one reason, to turn as much gold as was possible from their stock.
Even amongst themselves the street sellers have varied degrees of wealth, some could only afford timber boxes they carried in on their backs.
Whilst others invested in rolling wagons to store and show a wide variety of goods, while even wealthier sellers had permanent fixture stalls they either owned, rented or were paying off with their profits.
The benefits for the last group were immense given that they are able to leave their wares on sight overnight, as the market is heavily guarded by sell swords paid for by the wealthier sellers and merchants that surround them.
During the day the sell swords leave and only the king's soldiers remain to patrol, this is only at certain times when their patrols of the kingdom would pass through the marketplace - or they decide the merchants and their customers got to assertive, they would visit and ensure they knew their place.
The ground had become a muddied slush, a combination from the earlier rain and the sudden onslaught of people packing the large space once it had subsided - creating a muddied maze of people, making it hard to move from one end of the market to the other.
Waiting by one of the large walled entrances the small hooded figure peered out over the growing crowd, the oversized heavy cloak was more like a shaped blanket - so large on the figure hidden within, it dragged through the thick deep mud that covered the market grounds.
Hazel eyes scanned the market and it's occupants, focused on the busy scene whilst remaining silent and still as if in hesitation - waiting for something to occur.
Before long on the cramped and crowded streets the press of people reached it's peak, when suddenly two men started yelling and shoving each other -as if on cue the tiny figure moved swiftly towards the sudden commotion.
As the argument escalated and the feuding men grew more violent and volatile, the seller's closest to them began to focus on the brawl - over their own stalls eager for peace to resume, so they can continue their sales for the already shortened day.
Approaching the growing disturbance the cloaked figure weaved through the crowd with speed and precision, reaching the stalls surrounding the fight the slight form moved from stall to stall with great speed - only a flash of skin ever revealed to the light of day.
Once they had circled the fray, the tiny figure raced out of the marketplace using another exit - disappearing into the crowds that flowed freely on the main streets of Almain.
After leaving the market the small hooded form began to move with intense speed, muddied feet could be seen momentarily as the slight frame leapt over obstacles with ease never missing a beat.
Sliding around corners and passing through alleys, the agile runner twisted their way through poorest areas of Almain known a the beggar lanes.
After backtracking and weaving through the outer reaches of the city sure no one was following, only then did the speeding figure approach a door attached to a run down shack.
Glancing around the street before opening the door then quickly and slipping inside, the closing immediately behind small arms raced to fasten bolts and locks to the door - before the tiny figure threw off the oversized rain soaked coat and rushing to tend the dying fire.
Her thin arms prickled at the warmth offered by the welcomed flames she brought back to life, once sure the fire was sufficiently fed - she moved to the sleeping figure by the fire, adjusting the blanket that fallen off her unconscious father.
The young girl still had a large satchel that hung across her small frame, she crossed the room to a small table and emptied out the contents of the bag in order to inspect the spoils of her labours.
She pawed over the parcels, packages and food items until she found a small wrapped bag - once in hand she moved to boil a large pot of water and sprinkled in a portion of the leaves, that were stored inside.
Only then did she return to the mound of goods scattered across the table, her eyes patiently scanned over the items until she decided on a small loaf of bread - she unsheathed the blade worn on her belt and cut into the fresh loaf.
Savouring the moment she took in the smell of the fresh baked bread and then devoured the entire wedge, she had carefully carved for herself.
Her indulgence was suddenly interrupted by a thundering knock at the frail door of her run down home, panicked by the sudden intrusion - she stared in silent shock and the pile of stolen goods laid out in front of her, as the thunderous sound came again.
Check out my story
or follow me on twitter @krystlehaines