Shasterah watched the small town from her vantage point in the shadows of the trees.  She chuckled gently to herself as she watched the theif.  He was ususally good, she could tell, but he had underestimated the vigilance of the baker.  Of course, now, he was struggling within himself with some decision, and Shasterah tilted her head.  She had no plans on interfering, but watching, instead.  As a moon wolf, she had no business joining a humanoid fray.  Still, this event intrigued her, and it was a welcome break from the lonely forest she had been in for days.<br/><br/>Shasterah shook her silver fur out and sat back on her haunches.  Maybe the theif would know what he was doing after all.  She herself had never been a theif, and would not know how to escape a predicament such as his.  Many thoughts ran through her mind as to how this could work, but, in the end, she had no idea.  She had no thumbs, no human arms, no human face.  She was but a wolf, and only had an entire understanding of her own culture.  A slight chuckle escaped her throat again.  This theif would be dead by now if he had been a wolf.  Losing an arm seemed very mild.<br/><br/>A gentle breeze began to play through the tree branches as Shasterah laid down.  This would be endlessly interesting.