A/N Just a small one shot. I didn't have much of a goal when writing this one so it's fairly light. It might have lost the original direction half way through so I just decided to close it up here and post it.

Oh, and if you didn’t know, I’ve given Genesis it’s own fiction page.

The newest chapter can be found here.

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In the city of Creston, it’s business as usual. Located due east of the Badlands, Creston is one of the last ‘safe’ places to gather supplies before the untamed western lands. Thus it’s good for business, both coming and going. Travelers pass through, merchants exchange goods and go about their business, and adventurers resupply to pass through to the badlands in hopes of hunting beasts. And as any other well traveled town, there is business to be found in the shadows. Unfortunately for one young man, there is nothing to be found there but pain.

Away from prying eyes, behind the horse sheds, several youths slowly surround a figure whose appearance is concealed by a coarse spun cloak and hood. Moving closer, they jeer, hit, spit on, and defile the ragged figure. After a few minutes of shoving him around, he is thrown to the dirt and one youth separates himself from the pack, presumably their leader.

“Tut-tut-tut. What did I say about hanging around in our territory Thomas?” (Jerkface1)

On the ground, Thomas groans in pain but still retorts. “*cough* Well you -*cough*- can fuck off Brandon. I’m free to uses these streets. Same as any other bloke.” (Thomas)

Narrowing his eyes, Jerkfa- Brandon, narrows his eyes in anger. He then pulls Thomas up by the collar and draws his face close in an attempt to intimidate him.

“You’ve been given enough chances to shove off, swine. Next time I catch you hanging around our turf, you won’t be getting off with just a few scrapes and bruises.” (Brandon)

Thomas, clearly not intimidated, just smiles and raises his hands as if in mock surrender. (Brandon used ‘Intimidate’. ‘Intimidate’ failed cuz Brandon’s a panzy.)

“Yeah, I hear you loud and clear Brandon. Can I go now?” (Thomas)

With one last look of disgust, Brandon throws Thomas back into the dirt and turns to leave. As the others follow, they leave Thomas with a few more scathing insults such as “Weakling” “Loser” “Maggot” and kick more dirt on him.

Now alone behind the inn’s stables, Thomas allows a grimace to paint his face. Minutes pass before he picks himself up and dusts off his cloak.

While Thomas is busy dusting himself off, a young boy timidly approaches. About ten years in age, he wears coarse clothes made from discarded bags. Matted black hair and startling blue eyes, he is small for his age. Beneath the dirt is a face of false innocence. Life growing up on the streets had robbed him of that long ago.

“Brother, are you okay?” (young boy)

“I’m fine Olly. How does your haul look today?” (Thomas)

“Stop calling me ‘Olly’! My name is Oliver and I’m no longer that little kid from before. I can take care of myself now. Anyways, I got 3 silvers, 7 coppers, and a loaf of bread. How’d you do with the local bullies?” (Oliver)

“I don’t actually know, I just got done with them moments ago. Let’s see.” (Thomas)

Shaking his sleeves, a few coin pouches, dirt, and straw fall to the ground. One by one he opens the drawstrings and upends the contents into the palm of his hand. In total, there lies 28 silver, 16 copper, and an iron ring. The iron ring bears the image of an arrow signifying it to be a ring of speed and is common fare amongst most travelers.

“I swear, the only good thing about those bastards is that they’re so loose with their money. The only thing they’ve really got going for them is their muscles. Other than that, they are complete imbeciles.” (Thomas)

“If I had the strength, I’d beat those bullies up myself.” (Oliver)

Startled by the vicious words coming out of the young boy’s mouth, Thomas almost drops his newly acquired loot.

*sigh* “I keep forgetting that I taught you how to live on the streets and use your face to your advantage. Really, that face is just unfair, especially on the ladyfolk who take pity on orphans like us. Well, it looks like I can safely leave you to your own devices now. It’s about time I got out of this place.” (Thomas)

“Do you really have to go Thomas? You’ve practically lived here your entire life. Where will you go? What will I do without you?” (Oliver)

“You said it yourself. You’re fully capable of taking care of yourself. Here, take this then if you’re so worried. You can use it to run away. It’ll help make you faster, but only use it in times of emergency. Wearing it all the time will not help your body grow strong and make the ring worthless in times of need.” (Thomas)

Gently handing the ring of speed to Oliver, Thomas gets up and sends his final farewell.

“Good luck Thomas. You better come back for me if you ever make it big.” (Oliver)

Without turning back, Thomas merely walks out into the streets and waves his arm in response.

Now what do I do. It’s getting too dangerous for me to stick around town. I’ll need to get out somehow. I guess I’ll see if I can tag along with an out-going caravan. Should I go down the busier streets for one last run before I leave? Yeah, I think that’ll be good.

With a goal now decided, Thomas hobbles his way over towards the market streets where it’s tightly packed with people and targets are plentiful.

Passing through, he stops by a bread vendor and decides to do some honest business for once. After his purchase, he is now 8 coppers less and carries 3 small loaves of bread away, one being munched on and the other two tucked under his arm.

Making his way down the remainder of the street, Thomas just so happens to ‘bump’ into a few people. Upon reaching the gate, it just so happens that several more coin bags have found their way into the depths of his cloak.

With lady luck smiling upon him, he spots a caravan preparing to leave. While nobody is looking, Thomas sneaks into one of the wagons filled with goods. Filled with crates of many sizes, it isn’t hard to find a hiding spot among them. Finding his chosen crate quite comfy, Thomas soon falls asleep and the caravan begins moving 15 minutes later.

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After half a day of travel, the wagons come to rest to make camp.

*zzzzz*

Thomas continues to doze away in his crate as an energetic voice can be heard outside the covered wagon.

“But Aunty Ali, I swear there’s somebody in there. I can smell it!”

“Fine little Furgy, I’ll check if you insist, but if you’re up to your pranks again, no dessert until the next 3 towns.”

Unfurling the tied canvas of the wagon, a young fox boy with reddish fur hops in. Sniffing around each crate, he quickly passes through them until he comes to stop in front of Thomas’s hiding spot. A motherly, well proportioned woman stands by the end of the wagon, looking on in patience.

“There! This one!” Furgy exclaims and points excitedly. “Open this one Aunty Ali!”

Aunty Ali then walks over and removes the top of the indicated crate. Inside is the curled form of Thomas, fast asleep.

Picking him up by the collar, she shakes him gently until he wakes up.

“Well, what do we have here? Somebody thinks he can get a free ride now, does he? Well, you’ll soon learn that those who don’t work don’t get to ride young man.”