Three days. He could not believe that it had already been three days. The others in the cart had been arguing about it all morning, but Blaine knew for sure that it had been three days. They didn't get a lot of light in wagon, but there was just enough light coming through the air holes to count the sunsets. Three days.

Blaine wished that meant something. The passage of time wasn't a whole lot of comfort when you had no idea where you were headed. Based on the company in the wagon, it wasn't anywhere good.

He had tried to keep his eyes to the ground as much as possible, but his cautious glances around the inside of the covered wagon showed him torn ears, shoddy makeshift tattoos and broken smiles. Appearances could be deceiving, but based on the angry conversations he had overheard to this point, these men were probably not the friendly sort.

"Pretty boy's not bein' social," sneered an eye-patched fat-man sitting directly across from him in the wagon. Blaine continued to feign interest in his shoes, hoping that the man would get bored and leave him be. As per usual, his luck must have been in some other wagon.

The man was now talking to the man beside him, coughing out a gruff laugh as he continued. "Looks fancy. Well-to-do brat like that must've done somethin' real low to be in here with our lot. Play a little rough with some noble kids or somethin', Fancy?"

A loud bang from the other end of the wagon pulled Blaine from his interest in the ground. Fist still against the wooden base of the wagon, the tallest man in the wagon practically growled as he spoke, his voice gruff and even. "Shut the fuck up, Willard. No one cares what the kid did, or what you did. We're all fucked anyway. Give him peace." Blaine watched nervously as the fat-man (apparently 'Willard') made as if he was heading over to the taller man.. The man beside him grabbing him and yanking him back down.

"Leave it. Listen to him. Shut the fuck up." Muttering under his breath, Willard sat down, spitting in Blaine's general direction.

"Whatever. Kid is as good as dead when we get to Woodburn anyway."

Woodburn. It took every bit of him not to shudder at the name as the other men in the wagon continued to look between him, Willard and the angry giant at the far end. He had heard stories, rumours. It never occurred to him that it actually existed.

A criminal colony. A place where people were sent to disappear, to be forgotten.

And twenty-four hours earlier, Blaine had thought things couldn't possibly get any worse.