Clark was lying on his side, blood pooling around his body from the open wound on his back. Sputtering for breath he whispered, "I wish I had never taken the stone."A few weeks earlier: He was drawn to it like a wolf to raw meat; it was instinctual. He knew his Grandpa Roy would never buy it for him - especially after the week they'd had, but he wanted it anyway. It was like he needed it - like his life was no longer complete without it. Now it was all a matter of how to get it. The man selling the item appeared to be a Native American around the age of 75, with dark reddish skin and long, silver braided hair. His eyes, however, with dark brown irises that seemed to deepen when you gazed at them, and eyebrows that scowled as if he was thinking about a former rival, looked as if they could see into your soul.As Roy left for the restroom Clark watched the stand. It only took him a moment to finalize a plan on how to steal the bolo tie. He just needed the right circumstances - he had to have just the right situation in order to get it. He couldn't believe he was about to do this - he knew better than to steal! All of his previous reasoning against stealing seemed so menial, so insignificant now. It was like those reasons didn't even matter. Something was pushing him harder than he had ever experienced to take the stone on the cord. He felt as if it was made just for him.He noticed a large group of people about to walk by and seized his opportunity. As he looked at the way the booth was set up, a perfect plan formulated in his mind. He picked the corner on the right and quickly nudged it with his hip, ever so slightly, knocking over a statue of a bald eagle. While pretending to catch the eagle, Clark kicked out his leg, tripping a passerby who was walking too close. The action sent the woman sprawling straight towards the display and all of the antiques. Someone shrieked as they watched the woman fall towards the booth. With all of the commotion and the attention off the antiques, Clark seized the moment. Reaching out, he grabbed the very end of the cord and tucked his prize tightly into his fist, away from prying eyes. Before Clark finished concealing the stone, the old man running the stand lurched forward and steadied the eagle statue with his right hand, saved the woman from crashing into his booth with his left, and then turned so rapidly Clark thought he was seeing things - and grabbed Clark's arm. Clark winced from the grip, then locked eyes with him for what seemed like decades. The Native American's eyes appeared to be hundreds of years old. He stared penetratingly into them for just a moment, then glanced down at his hands. Worn and leathery, they looked as if they'd battled enemies hundreds of times. How had he not noticed them before? The strength and agility this man possessed for his age was incredible. As Clark's thoughts lingered on the Native American, he removed a knife from his sleeve and slashed it down toward Clark's wrist.