A Flea in Your Ear

Unseen by the men who snarled and stamped, a tiny figure glided away from the knot of people, moving around the edges of the chaos like a shadow merging with the night. She – for it was a little girl in a ragged green dress, with tangled hair like old straw – darted two and fro among crates and anchor lines, making her way slowly but steadily from the source of the disturbance toward the main road that would take her from the docks. She never ran, never seemed to be in a hurry, and yet something told Porthos that she was the thief.

How Porthos met Flea.