The boy didn't get far. A large hand shot out from the crowd, grabbing the back of his ragged shirt and yanking him backward.
He was caught.
The man who had him was a burly figure with a blacksmith's arms. He locked the boy in a grip the child had no hope of breaking.
The boy struggled, kicking his small legs, but he was weak from hunger.
The crowd, which had been a river of bodies, now swirled into a whirlpool around the captured thief.
The restaurant owner finally caught up, his face red and sweaty.
"That's the same boy who stole my money a week ago!" a woman shouted from the crowd, pointing an accusing finger.
SLAP!
The blacksmith's hand cracked across the boy's face, a sharp, ugly sound.
The small loaf of bread fell from his grasp, landing in the dirt.
"These filthy kids," the restaurant owner spat, his chest heaving. "We need to teach him a lesson for life. One he never forgets." He drew back his foot and delivered a solid punch to the boy's gut.
