Scribbled on the wall, words that made no sense to anyone, but those who had written them down, in a cold brick house in the winter there wasn’t much left to do after the snow had gone. So he filled the days studying the morsels of information he did have and awaiting more to come from wherever it would. Although as the time of the festival approached, as it did every winter, people were briskly walking the streets with plenty of cash in their purses. This pleased Ero, as he had learned from a young age that the rich were rich enough not to notice a missing coinpurse. Acting cautiously as always, he wrapped up (mainly to conceal his face) and headed out to the rich part of the village.

I have about four chapters at the moment. What do you think so far?