The night was unusually chilly, the wind sharpened by the speed of the train as it rolled southward through the darkened valley. The cotton blanket Ashton had stolen was large enough to spread like a tarp and at the same time wrap around him and the rest of the orphans, but it was threadbare and for brief stretches the train would accelerate and the wind would cut right through to them. It had not been a problem the night before but now they were riding on top of the boxcar, as there was no more room within any of them, even as the train was more than a dozen cars long. A massive phalanx of nomads (or as Ashton calls them, homeless losers) had met the train at the last station, and in the time it took the orphans to relieve themselves by the side of the tracks they had lost their place and had had to climb the rusted ladder between the cars, Ashton running alongside for fifty meters until the other orphans were high enough on the rungs so he himself could jump up and on.

There was a score or so of people atop every car, groupings of nomads, mostly children like them, all traveling by themselves. Ashton was eleven, the oldest in the group of orphans. Winfred (Winnie as she likes to be called) and Jude had just turned seven. They were fraternal twins, though looked as much alike as a sister and brother could, only the cut of their hair distinguishing them.

Ashton knew they could have waited in the hope of another train with room inside but it hadn't been cold when they stopped just before dusk and he decided they ought to keep moving while they had the chance.

To keep moving was always safer than lingering in one place, and there was nothing back at the station to eat, anyway.

There were a few policemen drinking and playing cards by the station, though their presence could only mean that their escape had been reported. Ashton had seen the newspapers. Though he could not read very well, he knew having his face on the front page would mean the authorities were on alert.

They'd left the orphanage, Ashton, Winnie, and Jude, all in the hopes of finding their parents. Jude, being the pessimist he was, begged Ashton to let them stay, but Winnie agreed whole-heartedly. Jude would never go anywhere without his sister, so he tagged along, albeit grudgingly.

Ashton hadn't been very happy with the company. Winnie was always attached to his side like a leech. Jude was just a little runt barking at his heels like some mangy mutt insane with hunger. But from the occupants at St. Peters, the twins were efficient. They didn't whine and bicker, playing the pathetic orphan in hopes of being taken to a new home. They weren't dogs, trying to pretend to be as good as possible, as cute as possible just to picked from the litter.

Ashton had spent his life in the orphanage. He'd never been chosen. Not that he wanted to. Ashton knew his parents were out there. He knew they wouldn't leave him in some awful place as this, but he wasn't going to wait for them.

Oh, no.

Ashton was tired of waiting.

He was going to find his parents.