You only looked away for a split second,

Looking back at your plate, you see that half the contents are gone. Somebody's nicked all the cheese and berries. All that's left is a limp, soggy slice of bread.

Your stomach growls. Furious, you leap to your feet, your eyes hunting for the culprit. They almost miss the little figure making off between the legs of the other punters.

"Oh bugger," the barman says. "The halfling's back. Do yourself a favour, friend. Keep your hand on your coin purse. That little terror will have the buttons off your trousers if she thinks they're worth anything."

You don't often find a curious halfling.

Poppy grew up as the youngest child, with five older brothers. Her brothers were pranksters. They played tricks on the neighbours all the time, but never let Poppy join in. Poppy wanted to know what they were up to. She learned to sneak. She learned how to hide. She even learned to pick locks. Her brothers' plans were never secret again.

Soon, her curiosity outgrew the family home.

Poppy's nose was too powerful for her own good. She snuck into other halfling's homes. She hadn't yet moved on to theft, but she did enjoy eavesdropping on private conversations, and rifling through drawers. The rest of the village came to see Poppy as something of a nuisance. She didn't care. She was used to being left out. Besides, she had all their secrets to keep her company.

One day, a troop of travelling bards came to her village. The place was tiny, and the halflings starved for proper entertainment. Practically the whole village turned up to see the bards perform.

 Perfect for Poppy to do some snooping.

Poppy stole into the bards' tent, and began rifling through their possessions. They were busy performing. She had hours before they would return.

Poppy was wrong.

Poppy dived headlong into an empty chest as footsteps approached. She pulled the lid down, leaving it open just a crack, and listened.

"Are we nearly done?"

"About halfway. The boss was right. These halflings have all sorts of treasures in their homes. We already have more loot than we got from the last two jobs put together."

So that was it. For the first time in her life, Poppy knew she had to share one of her ill-gotten secrets. She had to get out, to warn the others. Luck, though, was not smiling on her. One of the bards leant on the chest's lid. It clunked Poppy on the head, knocking her out, and locking fast.

By the time she woke up, Poppy was miles away from home. Lucky for her, the bards hadn't opened the chest yet. She picked the lock and stole past the sleeping thieves. She had to make it home.

Poppy travelled for six months. She took odd jobs as a lookout, or a lockpick, to pay her way. She finally made it back home. There was no warm welcome, though. The halfling village had been ransacked. Their fury at the bards sill had not abated. Worse still, everybody thought Poppy had been in on the job