The city of Kingston upon Hull was demolished. No other word could cover the sheer destruction wrought by the recent bombings. As a port town, it was a dangerous beacon for the Germans during the war. Restoration had been put on hold in favor of the continuation of the war effort. It was only now, in December of 1945, that people had begun to trickle back in and re-build what was left of their homes.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows among the skeletal houses. Two men huddled around a low flame, hands extended towards the minimal warmth it let off. One turned away, fiddling with a small, warped steel ring.

"I can't get it to light." He grunted. The other looked up and frowned before leaning in to assess the problem.

A stranger appeared, his blackened figure silhouetted by the setting sun. Both drifters however, were too focused on their task and completely oblivious to his presence; to the slight twitch of his hands. Sparks suddenly flew up from the steel ring, lighting one of the men's beards on fire.

"Shit!" He cried out, desperately trying to beat out the fire. The other jumped up to help him, frantically reaching out as the smell of burning hair was picked up by the wind.

The stranger kept walking, his shark like grin scaring off any who took notice of him. He couldn't have anyone distracting him, not when he was so close to his goal. He'd been following the man for months, and he wasn't about to lose track of him now that he was almost on top of him. He could still hear the two men shouting behind him, cursing loudly into the cool evening.

"Idiots…" He muttered, glancing around before adjusting his bag. He winced as the guns inside shifted and clanked together, making a mental note to clean everything and put it away properly when he stopped for the night. But there was still a long way to go before then.

He pulled out his map of the area and studied it a moment before nodding and quickly stuffing it back into his pocket. He could make it to the next town over if nothing got in his way. He took a brief pause to look around the barren town, shaking his head in disappointment. These people had done nothing to deserve the tragedy, and yet the bombs had found them rather than some important city or munitions factory.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Erik started down the street again, head tucked against the growing wind. He stepped out into the village square, pausing again to look around. He didn't like open spaces like this, they made him feel too open, too exposed. He reached to his waist, fingers curling around the small pistol that was hidden under his long coat. Cold grey eyes swept the area, searching out anything that seemed out of place. He relaxed once he deemed the are clear, and let his hand fall away from his gun, settling by his side once again.

He started across the square, still on the lookout for anything or anyone that may try to jump out at him. He was almost to the opposite side when he heard something shift behind him. Without hesitation, he turned, gun leveled.

"Who's there?" He demanded, voice low and rough. The only response he got was the faint echo of his shout around the square. He grit his teeth, looking around with narrowed eyes before slowly straightening up and slipping the gun away. Maybe he'd stop sooner than anticipated that night. There was no way hearing things was healthy. He took one last, long look around the square, his eyes lingering briefly on a large pile of rubble before he turned sharply and started down one of the narrower streets.

It was not ten steps later that Erik heard the noise once more; the faint patterning of shoes on stone. Again he turned, ready to call out whoever was following him. What he saw made him pause in confusion, the threat dying in his throat.

A small boy, who couldn't have been more than six was crouched in the middle of the street, hands covering his eyes with his head ducked. Erik tilted his head slightly, cautiously making his way over. The boy didn't react past his fingers twitching slightly. Erik watched him a moment, glancing around before shaking his head.

No one in their right mind would let their child wander along in a town like this, he thought, His parents are bound to be nearby. He cast one last glance to the child before starting on his way again, muttering crossly to himself. If he didn't have something much more important to do, he would have hunted down the boy's parents himself. But there were better things to worry about at the moment, so the child would have to find his own way home.

He had barely made it around the corner when the footsteps started up again, almost running to try and catch up. Erik turned and ducked just out of sight, watching with a small frown as the boy careened around the corner and skidded to a stop, looking around with wide blue eyes.

"Looking for someone?" Erik couldn't help but ask, stepping out of his hiding place. The boy gasped and quickly dropped down again, covering his eyes once more. Erik raised an eyebrow and chuckled despite himself, stepping in front of the boy and looking down at him. The child peeked up through his fingers for a second before covering his eyes once again with a soft gasp. Erik stood over him for a moment before huffing and hunkering down next to him.

"What are you doing?" He asked bluntly. The boy once more peeked up, frowning in confusion when he realized that his little hiding trick wasn't working with this man. He shifted and sat on the ground, legs extended out in front of him.

"Following you."

Erik blinked in surprise and leaned back, watching the boy. The child didn't seem frightened, staring up at the man with bright blue eyes.

"And why are you following me?"

"Because you're the only person around." The boy once again replied without hesitation. Erik shook his head and stood up, quickly turning away from the boy.

"I'm not. You'd best get back to your parents, it's getting late." He said, scowling up at the darkening sky. He was losing valuable time, but he couldn't bear to simply walk away from the child. There was something endearing about those too blue eyes and childish face.

The boy seemed ready to protest, scrambling to his feet and racing after Erik, tugging urgently on his sleeve.

"You can't go!" He pleaded, tears already welling in his eyes. Erik looked down and huffed, pulling his sleeve away from the boy and growling down at him.

"I have better things to do than worry about lost little boys!" He snapped, turning quickly as the boy stumbled back in surprise. There was a stiff silence between them for a moment, Erik glaring down at him, and the boy returning the glare with a trembling lip. Erik broke the silence first, waving a hand sharply.

"Off with you!" He snapped, his voice jolting the child out of his thoughts. He didn't leave, however. The command only seemed to make him more persistent, reaching up to latch onto Erik's sleeve again.

"No! You can't make me!" The boy didn't seem willing to release Erik's arm, clinging tightly to the man even as he tried to shake him loose. "I know what you are!"

This made Erik freeze, his entire body going rigid. He looked down to the boy, eyes wide and puzzled as he tried to figure out just what he had meant. Those blue eyes gave nothing away, however. The boy continued to glare up at him, tiny hands fisted in the rough material of his jacket. There was a silence between the two of them, heavy and unsure. Erik finally pulled away, shaking his head. He didn't speak, simply took off running down the street. And try as he might, the little boy simply couldn't keep up, and lost him a few blocks later.

Once he was sure he had lost the boy, Erik finally paused to catch his breath. One look at the sky told him all he needed to know. He'd wasted too much time with that child, and it wasn't safe to wander the country-side and night, even if he did have a vast array of guns hidden about his person. With a small grumble, he made his way into one of the more sturdy looking buildings to set up his camp for the night.

After lighting his fire, he idly spun his coin round his fingers, watching as the firelight glinted off of the scratched metal surface. He sighed heavily and reclined, resting his back against the wall and closing his eyes. Tomorrow would be different; he'd actually manage to make some progress, rather than waste his time trying to get rid of a lost child.

I wasn't lost. Erik jumped at the voice, looking around with a low growl. There was no one around, surely he would have heard them. He pushed himself up and walked into the street again, gun once more held loosely at his side. He looked around, checking all the nearby buildings as he tried to figure out where the voice had come from.

Once he'd deemed the area clear, he shook his head and retreated to the building he was using as his camp. He settled by his little fire again, staring at the flames before sighing softly and closing his eyes. He was overly tired, that was it. The voice had just been his mind working too hard for too long. He needed to sleep. He'd feel better after a good nights rest, and he hoped voice wouldn't come back for a long time.

A/N: I do not have a beta for anything but my Star Trek stories, so you'll have to forgive any grammatical or formatting mistakes there are. Anyone who's interested in beta-ing, and it willing to read a vast array of things, please let me know. A way to contact me is through my tumblr at my-angel-cant-fly, or simply through the messaging system on fanfiction.

(Also, itener [the title] is Latin for journey, march, etc)