Silver was not his given name, but Sean lost his parents when he was very young. He was not even sure he could remember their names, no less their faces. For a while, an aunt took him in, but when he proved more trouble than she could handle, she promptly returned him to the streets. That was when he was barely thirteen.

Sean worked as a farmhand for less than a year until the farmer caught him stealing grain. And that was that. It did not matter that Sean stole because he was starving, he was a thief and the town ran him off deep into the woods. It was there that he found a gang of ruffians.

Seeing the poor, nearly dead youth, the criminals quickly laid hands on him took him in their midst.

"This boy has found us. We cannot let him get away," a haggard woman said viscously. Her scraggly hair barely covered her splotchy head.

"What should we do to him?" A shrewd man with missing front teeth asked with glistening eyes. Sean did not like how the man seemed to regard him.

"I have been workin' on a new way 'o torture," a third chimed in with a greedy look.

"You have spilled enough guts this week," another argued as he shook his head. "Leave some fun for the rest of us."

Sean backed up against a tree as the mob surrounded him, ready to end him one way or another. The hunger for violence made them resemble ravenous wolves. Swallowing hard, Sean lifted his arms in front of his face to not see his own death coming.

Only the haggard-looking woman stopped them from doing the deed. "He is small a enough that finishing him off seems a waste. Why not use him as a slave until he keels over on his own?"

At first, the gang was unsure of the idea at first, but but they eventually decided that they could use a mascot, however puny. Oh, Sean had to work for his scraps they threw him. It was barely enough to survive. But unlike the woman's prediction, survive he did.

Day after day, the men and women beat and bullied him, but they let him sleep and live among them. It was the closest thing he had to family, even if they abused him, treating him worse than an unwanted puppy.

Due to his poor diet, Sean grew tall and thin. He found he was very good at moving silently among the group, and that with enough stealth he could steal a larger portion of food and supplies. Sean was smart—he never took enough that it would be noticed, just enough to make the owner question their count.

Hoping to avoid extra beatings, Sean worked hard to keep the camp clean and bore the burden of breaking down and setting up camp every few days when they moved. The poor diet and hard labor made Sean slim but strong and wiry.

Many hours of the wiry boy's day were spent alone at the camp while the bandits wreaked havoc on the countryside. Eventually Sean fashioned a small bow and arrows for himself and learned to hunt small game.

In most of the areas the group camped, rabbits and many types of fowl were in plentiful supply. With a little practice, Sean was able to hit his target with a consistent kill shot. The hours passed more quickly when he was dressing and cooking food.

The added meat helped Sean immensely. After a time, his bones were not visible beneath his skin and his muscles became more defined.

The other bandits noticed his growing bulk, and decided he might finally have some other uses. When Sean was almost sixteen, they took him out on his first raid.

Sean was excited. Finally he would be part of the group instead of an outcast. Eagerly he prepared. He tried to gain as much information as could about the place ahead of time. The raid was on a small manor house. The boy comforted himself that the master of the manor was wealthy and would not miss any of the things they took. He was probably a selfish and ruthless master anyway.

However, Sean found that the people he lived with were more ruthless than anything he imagined with the master of the manor. The gang took everything inside the house of value. They beat the owner of the home and terrorized his family. They even sent his livestock running.

Sean was struck by the senseless violence. Struck, but not surprised. He had experienced their tortures, but it was different to see them carry it out on others.

When it was over, Sean was given his share of the loot and they all tore off along the countryside to escape any pursuit. Sean was slightly sickened by his spoils. 'At least they didn't kill anyone,' he comforted himself.

Unfortunately, this was not always true. As the bandits continued their trek across the land, Sean was witness to the worst of humanity. His heart could not process with the evil of his comrades, so it became cold and unfeeling.

The young man began to sneak in quickly, steal what he could, and leave before things got too bad.

His stealth gained him the nickname 'shadow', which was a step up from being called 'slave.' And that is how his life continued, living in the shadows, trying only to survive.

Sean's seventeenth birthday came and passed, and his growing skill among the outlaws did not go unnoticed. Some of the members became jealous. It didn't help that Sean engaged with them as little as he could. He would always place his pack at the edge of camp and rarely joined in the bragging that took place after a raid.

"Why does he think he's so much better than us?"

The rumors began to move through camp. Sean could hear their words, but shrugged. What could he do? In their group of steal or be stolen from, he was the greatest expert at the former. Unfortunately, being the best means that someone always wants to topple you.

One day the group planned to attack a large farm. The owners were wealthy and the livestock were penned in with a nicely built wooden fence. A barn abutted one of the fence lines. It was large and had room for both cattle and horses to seek shelter and warmth.

The bandits attacked late afternoon in full force, overwhelming the farm quickly. Sean went swiftly about his work, exiting out the back of the large house toward the pasture. A little way off he saw two of his companions. They motioned for him to join.

As he approached, Sean got a sinking feeling. Something was not right. Without warning, the first man grabbed Sean's pack while the second tackled him to the ground. Sean was strong, but these men were older and together, they were much stronger. Producing a rope from his own sack, the second man tied Sean's hands behind his back.

"What are you doing?" Sean asked helplessly. "We're on the same side."

The first man sneered. "Ha! You were never on our side. We see how you look down your nose at us from your moral high horse. You are no better than us."

"I never said I was," Sean's voice began to plead. "You can have my share of the spoils, just let me loose!"

"Oh we are taking our share, but ya can stay here just the same." The second man gave a smile that never reached his eyes. "Boss said we can't kill ya, but we should leave ya here ta take da fall." His accent was thick. "We've been gettin' a lot a attention from da law. This'll cool them off for a while. Enjoy prison." His yellow rotting teeth parted for a terrible cackle.

Sean grunted as the man climbed off his back and ran. "Please! Do not do this," he begged as he pulled against his bonds.

The first man raised his fist as he gazed down with hatred. "You are nothing," he hissed. The punch hit Sean and for a moment everything was hazy. When he came to, he saw the barn, only ten horse-lengths away, was ablaze.

If Sean did not get away quickly, he feared that he would suffer the same fate.