sparks blazing in her eyes, she watched him from across the fire sitting silently on her small log, bracing herself shivering a little “You see,” he said, “this fire gives off more sparks than flames.” She nodded And he went on, “It's because it uses souls as fuel. I'm burning things that once used to be part of people, things imbued with their essence. A favorite scarf gifted by a loved one before departing, a wife's beloved ring, a child's doll that resembles their mother, a purse that is seen as magical by a rich merchant who thinks she got rich by holding money in it, an army general's lucky loincloth. These objects have in them parts of the souls of people who used to own them. Other thieves think they're stealing things of value, but they don't know what true value means. Me, I'm no ordinary thief, as you…