While Meg frequented the Bazaar frequently enough, there seemed to be more people than ever before. She actually had money for once, rather her usual having to rely on stealing an apple from a fat vendor. She wouldn't take from the ones who seemed nice, or actually needed the money - but there were more than enough round and greedy merchants that she never had to resort to that. Today the money was not to be used for food, she reminded herself, but for equipment. Maybe a new shirt. Glancing ruefully at the remains of her old cotton one, she decided that yes, she was going to need a shirt. Well, eventually at least, depending on how expensive they were. At least she didn't have much to cover, unlike most girls her age. Tugging her hat down over her face, the street urchin made her way into a sector that carried more goods than food, hoping to see something relatively cheap but interesting.
Gods, why are there so many of them? Is there some festival going on I didn't hear about?
Somehow, there managed to be even more people crammed into this section, with much less possibility to move freely, and almost not way to run if she ended up needing to. As she pushed through the crowds of people, Meg began to feel claustrophobic. Everyone was taller and heavier than her, although some of the tall ones were wispy, ethereal even, and definitely light. Still, she couldn't even see most of the shops anymore; the points of tent poles being all that was left of the transient ones, and a few of the more permanent stalls could only be seen by the peaks on their roofs.
By this time Meg was becoming panicked, hating large crowds with a passion, but knowing that if she put off the trip until the next day she very well might not have the money. The people started to thin out a little, offering more of an avenue to move within. Luck seemed to be with her then - good or bad she couldn't tell - as the man materializing directly in front of her hadn't noticed who was but a couple of feet away. With more than a little anxiety, Meg realized that she had seen him before in a less-than-pleasant situation. She had been distracted by a lump of shiny green glass hanging from his belt once, and before she had realized what she was doing, had grabbed it. Apparently there was some form of anti-theft spell on it, as his instantaneous action was to reach back and pick her up by the scruff of her neck - which hurt quite a bit. Luckily she had managed to bite his other hand when he was starting to cast a spell in her face and ran as he dropped her, cursing. The experience had been memorable enough that there was no way she would forget him, from the front or back.
Trying to not turn and flee, her hands clammy on the shaft of her staff, the small girl backed up until hitting the wall of a shop with a thud, where she leaned to try and regain her composure.
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