âWhat Iâve learned,â Joaquin mused softly, after listening to Malloryâs philosophies on her thieving tendencies.  âIs that no matter what you do, there will always be someone unhappy with your choices. Perhaps I have a very simplistic approach, heh heh. But people certainly do adore you, Mallory, regardless of whether or not you go out to seek adoration, or cause trouble.â Joaquin smiled sadly at her.
âEven those who are no longer with us, their love still remains, hm?â
Mallory answered Joaquinâs question about going up to the western coves cliffside, by looping her arm into his, and together they headed out. Which, despite the disaster of the books, being arm-in-arm with Mallory did cheer him up greatly. It felt comforting and curious, like they were embarking on a little adventure together (not too much of an adventure, though; certainly not a grand adventure. A little adventure would do nicely though. Something gentle and interesting, something they could talk over later on, maybe over a fire. Maybe sharing a fish for supper!)
âPerhaps for the sake of a personal experiment, you could try to do something different? You have been using this same tactic for decades, my dear. Everyone knows by now, that you are a thief. Not hardly a challenge, when we all know and expect that you will just give back the things you take.â Joaquin winked at her. Â
âNot that I am hinting you should keep what you steal! And not that predictability is a bad thing, either. I like being predictable, even when Iâm unpredictable. And I suppose you have a whole new set of people to cause mischief with, ever since the aero-tram crash last year. Ah! A whole year.â
Unfortunately, Philipâs fate did await them all, sooner or later, in one way or another. But Mallory knew this; she just didnât want to think about it. So Joaquin pat her hand, muttering nonsense words of comfort under his breath. There was nothing he could do to assuage her sadness, over such a loss.
As they walked, Joaquin pondered her question about confronting the thief.  âI would consider it more of a vandalism, than thievery. It seemed like a child, throwing a tantrum in the library. And tearing at books for attention and not for any gain, donât you think? Which meansâŚâ
Joaquin hummed, unused to deduction. He tried to channel AurĂŠlie. âWhich means perhapsâŚthis vandal was trying to makeâŚa statement? Perhaps make a point. That perhaps collecting books is a waste of time and effort, on Meridium. Ah! So I will endeavour, therefore, to convince this poor, scared, upset soul that indeed Meridium is precisely where we need to retain knowledge, culture, and art. We are a civilization, and civilizations need culture as much as we need agriculture.â
He looked at Mallory for her thoughts.  âOui, mademoiselle?â
âTry something new? I donât know, Joaquin. Iâve tried the drunk approach, Iâve tried the noble AurĂŠlie-esque approach, Iâve tried the quiet approach. None of those are really me. If thereâs some other route to travel, Iâm not really sure how Iâm supposed to find it short of flinging myself down a couple of new ones and hoping for the best.â She lifts her chin and pulls a grumpy face, mimicking Seamusâ voice with little success. âMaybe Iâll try grump next, yeah?â
She shrugs. âSuppose itâs been a little while since Iâve come to bother any of my usual people. Tamyra must be downright cheerful without my presence,â she says wryly. Her smile shifts at his pat and she sighs, leaning over to drop her head on his shoulder, content for a moment that thereâs no requirement to smile among friends.
Nodding along with his words, Mallory drops his hand as their walk turns into something of a climb as they reach the western cove. âNot much use in bits of ripped paper so a statement isnât a bad idea. I think itâll be more important to figure out whether this is directed at someone specific, or at all of us.â Itâs still a little beyond her that someone would waste time trying to make a muck of things in the present climate. Itâs a hike to reach the bunch of trees that make up the portion of the cove they need, and she sniffs around in search of the scent.
âI think itâs possible, but if thatâs the case, they didnât do a very good job because whatever statement they went to make, itâs very ambiguous. Are they protesting the books on their own? Are they protesting where we put them? Are they protesting that weâre putting time into caring about them? Are they making a statement about how hopeless things are?â she wonders, brow furrowing.
Mallory pauses, gripping his arm as they stand at the base of a too tall tree. âLook, Joaquin, itâs a page from a book.â She stoops to pick it up, smoothing the jagged edges. Squints at the rips and tears. Something about it looks strange.
She glances down at their feet where bits of shredded paper are being yanked away by the breeze. Then up at Joaquin, abruptly amused. âAre we... certain a human did this? Look at the tears in this page, it looks like something was biting it. See?â She traces a finger over the cut, at the little marks left on the page. She holds it out to him to see and her eyes slide to the tree. âI think weâve been sent on a wild goose chase. My mom always did have a quote: if you hear hooves outside your door, donât think zebras when itâs just horses.â So maybe the smell of birds was just.. the bird that was their thief.
âHere, Iâm going to climb the tree, I bet thereâs a nest in there with the rest of the paper.â She jumps to reach one of the low hanging branches and yanks herself up slowly until she can swing her legs up and over. Spinning right ways up, she climbs a little more, pushing aside some of the leaves until she finds-- a nest.
âHello sweet thing,â she murmurs to the bird resting in a nest of paper. Itâs a single bird, a ruffled, ugly thing with dark feathers. It stares at her, defiant, maybe, though sheâs not much use in reading bird expressions. âI donât know much about bird types. But Iâve got our thief.â Her free hand reaches for it the way one does a cat, fingers wiggling gently, and it hops to her fingers, settling down. âYou can probably call off the search party, Iâm going to see if I can rescue any of the pages, yeah?â She stares it, thoughtful, and settles her back against the trunk of the tree, smiling at it, content to wait. She has all the time in the world.