Dreaming of Treasure

The girl tossed and turned and her eyes turned to the ceiling to burn holes in the thatch more than once. Why am I so restless? She thinks, scowling as she runs her hands through the tangled mess of black tresses atop her head. Kira sits up in the bed Mika had provided her in the extra space between the spine of the forge's roof.

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and wiggles her bare toes. She cants her head to the side as she stares at her ankles. On each of the fae like girl's slender, pale, limbs she was forced to wear a pair of cuffs that resembled shackles. The only difference, something the gypsies had added, were the bells around the pieces of leather. "Damn gypsies."Kira says, sliding onto the floor as quietly as she could. Which wasn't very quiet. Cursed bells.

She winces as she creeps to the door, trying to keep her ankles as stable as possible. The 'door' to her room was really a simple trap like door, the ring inside. Kira kneels down slowly and lifts the door open, swiftly dropping down to the landing bellow. With another wince the girl slinks down the hallway where Mika and his daughter would be asleep.

"I'm so noisy with these things on!" she hisses as she descends the stairs, pushing the door at the bottom open to the little kitchen behind the forge. On her tip toes the slight girl pads from the forge, easing the door shut rather than letting it bang close like normal.

Kira stood in the middle of the street then, her green eyes staring down the road trying to decipher what it was keeping her awake. And then she knew. The Jester's Treasure Chest. That case under the register.. That was what was keeping her out of her bed at all hours. The girl takes off that way, bells announcing her path as she goes.

Finally she stood before the door, her fingers resting on the door. One push. Two pushes. And a third follows as her nose wrinkles up. She tugs on the handle with a grunt and then a whine as her tiny fists pound on the door.

"I want to see the trinkets..." she pouts softly, pressing her forehead to the door as her fingers brushed over the grain reverently.