The very same day that Luke went out hunting and Richard left for his cricket game, Peter Webster woke up in the ditch he called home. At least for last night.
Peter groaned as he looked at the sunlight poking through the leaves in the trees. He didn't want to get up just yet, but when he tried to get comfortable, a stick dug into his back. He rolled onto his stomach, but a stone beneath his head scraped against his skin.
So much for getting back to sleep.
In defeat, Peter sat up and brushed the red hair out of his eyes. It was getting to be chin length now, and he'd need to find something to cut it with soon again. If his hair got too long, it became a home for bugs and other unwanted guests on his head.
Peter yawned and stretched his arms, then turned in place to pop his back. He hated mornings. Peter rubbed his eyes and looked around at where he'd been living since the night before.
It was a small ditch somewhere in the west of Iddenu, but Peter didn't know of he was in either Bellona or Hilgaria. He'd been living in these woods for most of his life, except for the times he went into small towns to get food and other supplies he would steal.
How long had it been now? Peter wondered, 7 years? 8? It was ever since that housefire when he was really young, one which he'd barely survived. His parents, unfortunately, weren't as lucky.
And then he'd been alone. 304Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3SzrAjXuz8
Forgotten.
Just a boy on the street.
So he'd done everything he could to keep himself alive since.
It started in an orphanage, where at first he was treated with food and a place to sleep. But it didn't take long for Peter to figure out what it really was.
Really, it was meant for little boys to do work that most adults wouldn't choose to do. Sweeping chimneys, getting into small spaces to try to get rats and other pests out of, Peter even had a scar on his left hand from the time a rat bit him.
Peter had left that orphanage not long after that.
Then he tried to get into a free school, but when they'd given him a first look he was sent away immediately. Nobody needed a filthy redhead in their school, apparently.
And finally, one day, a family found him on their front door, passed out and starving to death. They offered him food and a bed, and the mother of the house even decided to give him a bath. 304Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBZVYKUhYOv
But the moment she took his shirt off, she screamed. And Peter was back on the streets again.
Now Peter looked at the world around him, confused at what to do.
"Might as well get up, now," he said to himself and slowly stood. Peter brushed off the dirt on his ratty clothes that barely fit him. They had been stolen, too, when his old ones got too small. But these were an adult's clothes, and he felt like he looked like a clown.
Even if Peter had found clothes for a 12-year-old boy, they still probably wouldn't fit him because he was just skin and bones. Everyday was a struggle.
Peter stretched again and yawned, finally waking up a little. When he opened his eyes, he saw a man in a crisp green suit walking briskly down the path to his left. When he passed Peter, he gave him a look and wrinkled his nose, picking up the pace so he could leave Peter's disgusting sight faster.
Peter mimicked the face behind the man's back, then rolled his eyes. Stupid rich snobs. Always in a hurry and "above" people like him.
Things like that used to hurt Peter, and he even tried to clean himself up once, only to be beaten up by a group of boys bigger than him, calling him "skinny" and "street rat". Now, comments and looks like that just annoyed Peter. 304Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzQ1sgYEGmp
He really wanted to beat up those same people who would give him looks, or ask them to try living on the street for as long as he had. Maybe then they'd understand. 304Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf0NaPI3ywc
But never mind that, Peter thought, the more important matter at hand was where to go next. Should he head south, to Bellona? The sun behind the road, where he was facing where the man had walked by. So if he went to the right, then that would mean south to Bellona.
To the left, on the other hand, where the man was heading to, was Hilgaria up in the north.
Peter thought about this for a moment. Bellona had promise, but he hadn't had much luck there in the past. A lot of rich snobs lived there. But that also meant a lot of things to steal.
Hilgaria, however, was a poorer country but had kind people. They could give him care and maybe even a place to stay.
"Go north, to Hilgaria, that is your destiny." said a voice as the wind rushed past Peter, pushing him to the road.
"Who was that?" Peter asked, terror rising in his voice, then he shouted, "Who was that!"
He looked around, but saw no place where the voice could've come from. Peter looked down the road where the man was still walking, and he turned back to give Peter a weird look.
But it couldn't have even been the man. He was a ways away, and the voice sounded like it was saying that into his ear, almost as if speaking into his mind.
Besides, the voice sounded feminine.
Should he go north? Peter wasn't one to really listen to strange voices, but still, the idea of heading to Hilgaria sounded a little nice.
"Alright," Peter said to himself, "Is something wrong with me? Why am I hearing voices?" Peter continued to look around, wondering if someone was trying to scare him.
"You've finally lost it, Peter," he muttered, shaking his head. "Is this my sign, then?" Peter looked at the sky, wondering if some higher power was at work here, moving his destiny forward. "Because if it is, can you do the weird wind thingy or the voice in my ear again?" Peter stood in anticipation, waiting for the sign. He waited for a few minutes, but nothing happened.
"Well I guess I'm crazy, then." Peter shrugged, then looked over to where the road led to Hilgaria. "Which is why I can't believe I'm doing this."
Peter had never done something as ridiculous and insane in his life. But he assured himself that it didn't sound too dangerous.
So Peter moved forward, deeper into the woods...
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