In a room in an old public house there lived a young man. For three days, any way. Not a clean, shining, large room filled with nice furniture and a nice smell, nor even a clean washroom to do ones duties: it was a dingy public house room, and that means it was squalid.
It had a scratched wooden door with a rusted handle with a lock that would probably break under some pressure. The door opened to a small room with splintery floorboards and poor lighting. The room was stained with the odor of tobacco smoke, and the single hole-filled bed even more so. Opposite the door sat the remains of a smell desk that had probably fallen to ruin months ago, as told by the dust that lined it. The room itself had another room on either side, and those ones had as well.
No going upstairs for the tenant: The bedroom was that room, and washrooms were shared between the tenants. The kitchen was another establishment altogether.
This traveler was a rather unique one. Though many were, he was even more so. See, he was marked by fate at a young age and his father fought fate through unorthodox means. He did win in the end. As a result Fate, turning out to be a sentient being, decreed that he be marked and wanted by beings that did work for the devil just as much as they did for fate (or perhaps even more). Demons.
The boy's name was Alexander, so-named after his late grandfather. After being marked, his father realized he now had to fight for his son and teach him to do so as soon as he was able. Thankfully for both of them he learned quickly and for his family's sake, he went off on his own with a great sum of money given to him by the man. By now, that money was slowly depleting and unlike the lodging houses, laborers were reluctant to hire a worker for three days or less. Alexander simply travelled around too much for employment.
By first light, Alexander rose from the musty-smelling bed and pulled on a long overcoat he used not only to combat the cold, but to cover the wrinkles on his shirt caused by lack of proper nightclothes. He grabbed a leather bag from beneath the bed that when shaken,sounded as though it were filled with pots and pans. Of course, the contents of his bag were more.. sharp in nature, amongst other things.
With a creak, he lifted the third floorboard from the bed and slid out a pouch of money that was once much heavier. One could never be too careful with his money, especially in this sort of establishment. He tucked the pouch into his bag, save for 7 cents. That, he used to buy some bread, ale, and a cup or water. Shortly afterward, he set off on foot away from the town.
As he walked, the road faded from brick to gravel, to dirt. As midday approached, he broke off from the road with a new town in sight. He didn't like to enter a town or city via the main road, due in part to the fact that he would be easily seen by whoever may be watching, and partly because he liked to avoid the overly expensive and loud vendors that lined the main street.
Looking around, he resolved to cut through the brush and emerge from the trees, more or less in the town. Or at least, closer to it by the side.
He stepped into the vast treeline and couldn't help but smile slightly at the break from the sun's light. After maybe fifteen yards in he figured he might as well head towards the town, but couldn't quite bring himself to just yet. He was lucky not to run into a demon this far into the day, and the trees provided good cover.
He remembered times where he was too far between towns and had to take shelter in the trees. When that happened, he often climbed a sizeable tree and lay in the branches and didn't feel anxious that a demon, or even a human thief would come up behind him or in his room and take his life or possessions. It was this reason why he generally preferred forests to cities and townships. Towns however, had food and water. They had people, clean clothes, beds, and shelter from insects.
He hadn't realized he'd been walking onward while thinking of these things, until the light trickle of a stream snapped him out of his reverie. Coming up to the clear stream, he took a flask from his pocket and filed it with the cold water. He emptied it into his mouth and filled it again. Now that he knew of an accessible source of water, he deeply considered spending what remained of the day and the coming night in the brush, with its soft ground and clean, non-stale air.
Deciding yes, he would in fact wait until tomorrow to enter the city, he marked his current location with a row of stones pointing in the direction he ought to exit, come tomorrow. Alexander followed the stream deeper into the woods. It seemed almost as though he walked in a daze or lost in thought, the way time seemed to pass. Through the leaves the sky began to yellow.
Figuring he was sick of being on his feet and rather tired, he scaled a wide tree and settled himself on a thick Y-shaped branch. Beneath his body lay his coat, and from a nearby branch hung his bag. After emptying his flask once more, he tucked it away and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Naturally, when Alexander woke up the sun had not yet risen and his surroundings were covered in an indigo light. Swatting at mosquitoes, he lay in the tree for a moment more before slinging his bag and coat over his shoulder and climbed from the tree. He started back up the stream but froze when he heard the crunching of twigs from beneath footsteps that weren't his own. The sound grew clearer and clearer as whoever, or whatever it was approached. He quickly hid behind a tree wider than himself and had a knife in his hand.
Just a small note:
I borrowed the style of writing for the first two paragraphs from The Hobbit, which I do not own. I put the paragraphs there just so I'll have something, and I'll change it when I .. When I gosh dang feel like it.
