If you obey to the rules, you will pay for the consequences

Every life sought warmth and protection. It was a requirement every soul needed to adhere to or they would face harsh consequences either from mother nature herself or the darkest parts of Mobiankind. If one's needs couldn't be fulfilled then traveling became a priority. The place to go was known worldwide; the city's name always traveled from lip to lip no matter where you were. Every immigrant from the farthest corners of the world; they'd all get accepted behind the walls of Croford.

The city was known to have open arms, could fulfill everyone's dreams and was modern in a world of poverty. Technology was still in its infant stages yet improvements and advancements had been made beyond belief. With its rapid evolution came time and space for those who needed it. Housing, career, potential partners and adoption were at everyone's fingertips. You were given stability; an opportunity to live rather than survive. It was paradise.

The city was nestled in the woods with villages all around though never so close they could see the towers. While their neighbors had plenty of farmland, Croford preferred to spend its space on more luxurious items. Although some citizens preferred a pet chicken or two, no one in the paradise city kept farm animals - there was enough for everyone to go around without the filth of farms.

Croford was surrounded by a stone wall built to protect its citizens from disease, flooding and potential threats. The current one was not the first. Rather, the old stone walls divided neighborhoods and the oldest stone wall protected the castle. Each still had a functional gate and guards watching over the traffic. The giant stone gate at the entrance to the city always had a line of people waiting to get accepted into the warmth of their new homes. Soldiers stood guard, sweating in the heat of the sun yet never too tired to help the newest families. Merchants, honest working citizens and the newest immigrants always had places to go which meant the road was always buzzing. From east and west they came with carts overfilled with produce ready to be sold at the markets.

As you entered Croford, buildings upon buildings, houses and apartments were built against one another to house as many as possible. The sound of life would drown any doubts you had of your new life. The houses had different colored bricks, half-timbered and over half of them had gables, wide roofs and chimneys to let smoke escape. Some houses were freshly whitewashed, others stood proudly naked, housing every citizen that ever dared dream.

The outer part of the city held the oldest buildings but the houses facing the main road were kept neat and presentable. No new citizen should doubt their choice.

But as you traveled further between the alleys and ventured deeper into mazes of stone and cement, the meaning behind the word 'house' became broader. Here resided dilapidation, broken roofs, windows without glass, doors broken on its hinges. Insulation was a joke, and one might consider sleeping outside instead. Sometimes the rain made better showers than the cold buckets that could be collected from the wells. Furthest away from the main road pushed as close as possible to the stone wall were the homes of people who lived on the edge of eviction. They ate every crumb, they kept their earnings close and skirted around the rules just to survive.

The houses behind the beautiful exteriors of the main road weren't talked about as immigrants were encouraged not to look too close before settling. The main road made meaningless patterns in the confined and overcrowded space, filled up by street carts, markets and anyone who wished to work for their pay. No one had planned this city; it grew around its people and their lives. At times, poor people huddled around each other begging on the main road. Mercy wasn't taught to this city's people; they were merely told they needed to change and not waste their money.

A river divided the city in two like twins kept from each other by the cold of the harsh water. A stone bridge was the cut off for the idiom for patches of grass being greener on the other side. On the greener side, grand houses, estates and mansions held their own. Their exteriors shone in the sun and created beautiful patterns on the carefully painted bricks; the installed framework and secure foundations made them desirable.

The castle was the peak of wealth. The closer you lived to the castle, the better the house. Due to wealth. The rumors about the city's technological advancements came from here, as it was the only places where heaters, kettles, and if you were lucky, a TV resided. No one knew who the broadcaster was but when entertainment rolled around for adults and kids, they were glued to the screen. The houses near the castle had gardens, lush and green, with lilies and roses drowning out the smell of the city. Here, the wealthiest citizens also kept horses to pull their carts, though few could afford such luxury even between the rich.

It was a very rare luxury yet gossip spread about improvements coming soon to every household in Croford. The newest gossip promised a transportation which didn't require your legs. Oh how things seemed to be improving! Advancements turned this city into something remarkable. Soon, every Mobina in this paradise of freedom would be as happy as their neighbor. As one knew, evolution was a constant amongst every Mobian despite character, wealth, and rank. No matter rich or poor, the rumors promised every immigrant a destination to spend their happily ever after.

"To hell with that lie." He scoffed at the group of rich Mobians who had huddled together in the corner by the market stand to talk.

He was used to eavesdropping, gaining information about recent events and where the latest gang fight had taken place. His ears were trained at this point, listening to any sound, any conversation and anything that might be of use to him.

Talk about other Mobians wasn't important - he couldn't care less about Heather who had finally gotten a job, about poor John who had fallen ill and the lucky Bethany who had found someone she was interested in. Trivial things like that were a waste of time, something that didn't contribute to his survival and was therefore unnecessary to keep listening in on. Richer Mobians often talked like it was the most important news that they could get. Eavesdropping on the poor was much more useful since they were just as wary as he was.

Ducking his head low, he walked past the group, unnoticed as usual as he swiped something from a female bird's basket. She wore a long pink and white dress, feathers tied together at the top and spoke with an annoyingly high pitched voice. She was rich enough. He briefly looked at his hand and smirked when he realized he had gotten some cheese.

He quickly stuffed it into his tail, keeping it safe. He ducked his head low as his other hand clutched a bottle he had snatched earlier to his chest. His hooded cloak was long, dark green and perfect for camouflaging his short body, concealing almost the entirety of him. The golden trim had faded from his tendency to scratch at it. It was old and vaguely smelled of dust and grime from the alley's puddles and spilled drinks but it was the most important piece of fabric he had. But he also wore gloves that protected his sensitive fingers - he needed a new pair soon - and his dirty shoes that were required if he didn't want to get sick.

He rammed his shoulder into another passerby in a fake accident, mumbling a 'sorry' which he didn't mean while his hand went into the bag. He pulled out and smirked at the piece of bread he had gotten, a little stale and probably baked yesterday but now he could have cheese and bread once he got back. A good dinner indeed.

He lifted his head slightly as his eyes caught an elderly woman sitting on the ground with a basket next to her. Her Mobian clothes were ragged and dirty, an apple rested near her feet while her attention was on the basket. He walked past her.

The poor weren't his targets as they were struggling to survive just as much as he was.

His trained eyes scanned an alleyway as he passed it, ears drawn towards it but quickly faced forward again as he concluded that no one was hiding there.

He had to be aware - had to be conscious of every dark spot in this city. Doing what he did, he knew he had a lot of eyes turned towards him. Invisible eyes that he couldn't detect despite his sensitive hearing and experienced eyes. He knew the rules on the street, knew what happened here and what you needed to do to survive it.

He looked up when he reached the right place as his eyes scanned over a sign that hung from a door and immediately turned to his right into the alley that was connected to it.

He blew out an involuntary sigh of relief as the calm settled in his chest. The alleyways where he was hidden from everyone else were the only places he felt comfortable. Walking around a tower of boxes he looked up at the backdoor, a barrel beside it that smelled of liquor. He wrinkled his nose thinking that he was rather glad to get rid of this bottle as he lifted a hand and knocked on the door and immediately spun around behind the tower of barrels.

A couple of seconds passed by, his face screwed into determination, ears erect and listening. Then he heard shuffling from the wall behind him and soon something clicked on the other side and the door opened. A couple of seconds went by as the Mobian most likely tried to figure out who had knocked.

"Hello?" A female voice asked, the one he was looking for. He emerged from the barrel tower, the hood still drawn as he walked into the light that emerged from the open door. A female wolf with ragged clothes and an apron stood in the doorway.

"Oh, it's you," she said and gave him a smile. He blinked, thinking how long ago it was since someone had smiled at him before he presented the bottle he had clutched to his chest and offered it to her.

"Moonshine. As promised," he said, voice in the higher tones, indicating a young individual. She blinked at him before taking the bottle from him, sighed at the pure sight of it.

"Thank you. My husband's been asking for it for a while, but I don't have the money for it," she said, inspecting the bottle while he saw the way that she checked if the cork had been pulled off.

Automatically his eyes traveled over her eyes, irises analyzing and checking. She wasn't lying.

"Now your promise," he reminded her, knowing that he had already been standing here for too long. It was dangerous to stay still, especially in the alley, in the darkness. Her eyes somehow loosened from the bottle she was practically nursing, blinking at him before she let out an 'ah' and leaned away from the door.

His head whipped around automatically, checking for anyone, before returning to the female Mobian who held something silver colored out to him. He found himself standing and looking at it, precious seconds that he needed to use for observation rather than admiration. The small piece of machinery even had some wires sticking out from it. He quickly blinked away his daze, took it from her hand and got ready to say his goodbyes when she held a piece of sausage in front of him.

He looked at it, the red meat glistening in the light from the door, had to swallow some saliva that had conjugated but quickly looked back up at her, shaking his head.

"That wasn't the deal," he said.

Surprise, a bit of confusion.

"It's alright. You must have gotten out of your way to get the bottle. It's unfair for you to just get some metal in return that I found on the street," She smiled again. His eyes darted around her face, the twist of her lip, the slight widening of her pupils.

She was thankful but regretted her offer though she genuinely meant it. He shook his head again, taking a step back which made her redraw her hand, blinking at him.

"We're all in this. Keep it," he explained while her eyes changed again. Relief. It transferred down to her lips as another smile was on her face, warm and thankful.

"If you say so," she said, taking a step back as well in the doorway, "Be careful." The door carefully closed again.

He found himself standing and looking at the brown portal, holding on to the piece of machinery with both hands underneath his hooded cloak while he felt regret of his own creep underneath his skin. He shook his head, eyes darting around the alley once more, before he started walking, boxes and barrels in his way.

He had been on the street for a long time, a very long time, and with that time he had gained experience; a skill that made his presence known among the thieves and pickpockets. His blue eyes were trained, he could read and analyze, categorize people and their emotions purely on their facial features alone.

The eyes told him everything; every emotion played out in detail. Those never lied. He had bended a couple of Mobians who thought they were better than him, telling them that they were scared and hid their insecurities behind their façade. People had exteriors, fake masks to be able to live, but this fox could see them. He could see right through them.

He was known as the sly one, the quick dot of green that spun around corners and hid in alleys, could tell whenever you lied, whatever you were truly feeling and could reveal secrets without doing anything, without anyone saying anything. He was a pickpocket, grabbed what he could out of eyeshot, doing small favors in exchange for survival needs and items for his hobby.

The alley was where he belonged, where he was in his element and the place where he survived, where he disobeyed the rules.

The back of the houses were more dilapidated, broken exteriors, wells fallen into disrepair and wild grass that grew in between the bricks underneath his shoes as he made his way through the area. The sun had almost set, casting him into shadows. He had night vision and was able to see the world clearly from the small peddle on the ground to the high towers in the distance. It simply came with his race.

Clutching his newly acquired piece of machinery to his chest in pure fascination and interest, he quickly darted over a box, and made his way around a corner, rounded the side of a house and came into a narrower path squeezed between two buildings. Here he slowed down, his track turning into a walk in the middle of the path, making room for himself.

His ears listened tentatively as he hid his price away, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

"If you wanna ambush me you might as well do it now," he said into the empty alley.

His ears had caught the shushing, the shuffling and the quiet steps that tried to follow his own and create an almost invisible echo. He had seen it, the shadows that disappeared as soon as he moved his head just a tiny bit, hands placed on boxes and barrels to see where he went. He had tried to shake them, but somehow, they had been able to keep track.

And his suspicion was right, not a delusional image of paranoia. As he whipped his head around, he saw them emerge from behind the corner of a house. Three Mobians. He knew them. His eyes narrowed in defense, his tail whipped in premature agitation giving him no chance to calm it.

"Figured you'd heard us," a red male wolf said, dressed in a ragged brown shirt resting on broad shoulders. A strong opponent. He smirked, his eyes gaining a shine that spoke louder than if he had spoken.

Confidence. Too much confidence.

"Easy now Bruce, don't let him look at you. He might just make you tremble," a blue bird said. He had a red scarf covering his neck and a belt hung over his chest with a small pouch.

He smirked as well, though his eyes were slightly unfocused. He wasn't nervous but wary and careful.

Lastly a brown dog in dark blue overalls appeared from behind the wolf's back. His entire stance didn't radiate confidence like the other two but instead he hovered behind the wolf like he asked for protection. He was new, only joining the other two because he had nothing else to do. The guy clearly didn't know who he was ambushing.

"I ain't afraid of someone like him," the wolf said as he took a couple of more steps that to anyone else would have been threatening, "You were on our turf yesterday - we've told you before to keep away from the market." It was a warning, but he knew from experience that a warning wasn't all the gray wolf wanted to give him.

Adrenaline started rising in the pickpocketer, hands curled into a fist underneath his hooded cloak. His ambushers were practically towering over him but that hadn't been an issue before.

"So what? You're gonna beat a defenseless kid in the middle of an alley?" the pickpocketer asked with an edge of fierceness to his voice. He lifted his head to look at the wolf, schooling his expression into fearlessness.

The wolf crossed his arms over his chest - annoyance, offended even - as he looked down at him and took another step forward.

"You're not just any kid," the wolf leaned forward threateningly with a fierce expression, "Tails."

The pickpocketer didn't have to look closely to know what it meant; the territorial instinct drove his ambushers. They saw him as a predator threatening their grounds and their turf; someone they had to teach a lesson. It was their path for survival.

The fox squinted at the group and within seconds threw the hood off of his face and spun around, revealing another tail hidden underneath the cloak. The fluffy exterior gave the impression that they were weak and held nothing but fur and yet, when they were combined with trained and muscle laced legs, they became as strong as batons. A single whip sent the wolf into the brick wall beside him face first.

Tails turned his head, well-knowing that when the leader was getting beaten, the rest of the group would attack to defend their fallen comrade.

Both the bird and the dog charged at him.

The bird was trained and had been in fights before as he charged with precision in his feet. The new one on the other hand, the dog, clumsily ran with a punch already thrown, as if he had expected to hit him already. He saw the pre-victory gleam in both of them nonetheless - they underestimated him.

It was his greatest weapon.

He smirked as he dodged around a punch thrown by the bird and spun around the feathered body and stood behind him as he sent a kick to the attacker's side. The bird groaned in pain as he was thrown into the ground, momentarily defeated.

Tails turned around as the dog approached. He sidestepped the untrained one's clumsy punch and threw one of his own making the dog stumble backwards holding on to his face. Discouragement spread across his face along with the pain of what was probably his first fight ever.

One defeated. He would flee.

A frustrated cry stole his attention, steering it back to the broad shouldered wolf who had gotten back onto his feet and was charging, one arm raised, ready to punch. Punches were usually aimed for the face when you meant serious harm and the wolf's arm was true, going right for his nose.

Just in time, he dodged to the side just enough as the wolf's punch missed. The momentum of the punch made the bigger guy stumble and Tails took the chance and kicked him in the back, sending him into the dirt.

The sound of wind and feathers alerted him to the bird. Recovered and on his feet, the bird was already throwing another frustrated punch.

With frustration came unfocused attacks, meaningless and full of rage, something Tails could use to his advantage.

In a swift movement, he was crouched and spun, muscles tensing in his tails and quickly swept his opponent's legs out from under him. The bird heaved for air as he hit the ground, eyes wide with surprise.

Tails took a step back as the wolf charged at him with a frustrated cry and threw two punches that the quick fox dodged. His swift movements allowed him to quickly dart behind the wolf as he found his balance. Eyes narrowed in determination as he lifted his gloved hand, fingers straight and tense, and rammed the side of his hand into the back of the wolf's neck. A gasp escaped as his body collapsed, falling forward face first into a puddle.

Unconscious.

The fox inspected his beaten attacker to make sure his nose wasn't under the water's surface before turning around to face the others. The dog was already scurrying away while the bird got up with confusion settling in his face.

The bird looked at where the dog was going, looked at the wolf, looked back at where his comrade had disappeared and landed back at the pickpocketer. Tails stood with fists ready to punch as dust settled around his form as both of his tails were moving in quick strides, agitation and satisfaction overruling his form.

The bird looked at the wolf again before he turned around as well, following where the dog had gone. Tails smirked. Perfect. He had no reason to give chase. Instead, his eyes wandered to his unconscious ambusher and lingered for a while on the mark that was slowly forming on the back of his neck.

"Thank you Espio," he mumbled as he turned around, lifting his cloak so it hid one tail, and disappeared behind a box before the commotion brought the soldiers to the area.

He took the opposite way of his ambushers but his ears still flicked backwards to check if they had decided to follow. Silence was around him, the shuffling was gone and the only shadow around was his own.

Once he was certain he was alone, he stopped and hid behind a cart filled with empty barrels and leaned against it.

Big gulps of air filled his chest as he held a hand over his heart as panic flared. He did it. He was safe. It wasn't often that he was ambushed by three Mobians. Usually it was only one, or even two if they felt revengeful enough. He had been around the market a lot, well-knowing it was not his territory. But the risk was worth the treasures to be gained. This place was filled with fresh food and easy products he could swipe from anyone and trade with anyone who wanted to make a deal with him.

He needed to be careful. Who knew if he'd survive the next encounter? The future was a fickle friend.

Calm started to spread as he got his breathing under control, eyes closing as he forced his lungs into deeper breaths. The hood slid into its familiar position upon his head before he dared opening his eyes again. He survived. No time to dwell on it.

He took off, striding with as much confidence as he could muster.

There was a ranking system. The only rules he obeyed were the invisible ranks of who survived on the street. They were forced upon you the moment you swiped something, however small, and they clung to you as a lifeline and as a reminder of who you had become.

Place, time and victim all mattered. The thieves were in the high ranking as they were able to avoid the soldiers and remained anonymous. Assassins were uncommon but they existed and were highly respected, far beyond what the thieves could ever achieve. A very few instances had been known around the street when a beggar or a thimble rigger had wandered too deep into areas that didn't belong to them. Their bodies would be found on the corners of the city.

People who rigged card games and carnival wheels were on the bottom of the list, not entirely doing something illegal but at the same time didn't play by the rules of the law. Pickpockets were somewhere in between the thieves and the assassins, not being outwardly violent unless they were forced to and only took things that people didn't notice them taking.

From there, if you were known enough around the invisible web you were given street names, nicknames for who you were. You wouldn't know if your names were given out of respect or the opposite - at least not until you met the ones who had named you.

Quick and quiet, swooping around corners and swiping food without anyone noticing, took odd deals but did the job he was told. He was one of the better pickpockets around which was why people knew who he was and why they were after him.

With his eight years of being on the street, all the years that he had lived, his reputation had only risen into the negatives, making him more aware, making him more experienced.

Whoever had nicknamed him hadn't been very creative. It was quite obvious why he had gotten it. Tails - the sly fox who could tell when you lied and when you had a secret from one look alone.

The black worn curtain hung heavy with rain, concealing the corner Tails now called his. It was temporary, a makeshift place to hide for this week. He'd leave soon - there were better trackers than him and his only option was to move before they found him.

The fox drew the heavy curtain just enough to slip past, then squeezed past the tower of boxes he had stacked and went inside. His eyes darted around the area for intruders that might have found it, if not the fellow criminals around or a curious and adventurous kid. Though, the place was just as he had left it, a somewhat neatly organized and cluttered home.

It was a small corner, a small foldable desk just big enough for a single person with a large wooden box as his seat, and a pallet with some fabric made up his bed on the other side. Another weather worn box was tucked beside it with an old oil lantern, the only source of light he had. This place was the closest to secure as he could ever get.

Tails slumped onto the pallet. The time to move was closing in on him. If he stayed in one place too long people would recognize his pattern. They had invisible shadows and one day he might just have a visitor while he was sleeping. Now that three Mobians had ambushed him, he needed to find his next place to stay. It was time to move closer to the richer areas of town, though that was more dangerous.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, he drew back his hood and took two steps towards the box in the corner, opening it. He took some lamp oil and some matches, opened the head on the lantern and poured a small amount of oil into it, lit a match and let it ignite the wick. The flame sputtered to life before it quieted down to a small thing, spreading light in his small home..

Hunger reminded him of his earlier haul, and he quickly swept both tails in front of him, exhausted from keeping one of them still and hidden for a long amount of time. In public he'd hide one but in this cramped space, the other tail had space to move just enough to free him from the cramps for a while. The fox reached into one of his yellow appendages, taking out the machinery he had gotten from the woman as well as the cheese and bread.

Tails forced the bread to split with a dry resistance, leaving him two slices to eat which were quickly adorned with two pieces of cheese. The bread was hard to chew, but the dairy melted on his tongue. He sighed heavenly - cheese was a rarity for him.

After a couple of bites he felt queasy as a bit of nausea came to his throat which he tried to negate with his meal. He steadily began to regret that he had declined the sausage. The meat would have solved this. It had been a whole week since he last had eaten anything that truly satisfied his carnivorous needs and his stomach was scolding him.

The pickpocket would have to risk a protein swipe. Meat was scarce in the poor part of town - grains and dairy were almost always the go-to source for people with nothing to eat. Which meant he had to cross the bridge and travel to the richer part of the city. Something that he felt nervous about.

The last bite of bread disappeared into his mouth, the last cheese melting on his tongue before he swallowed. The machinery was resting on the pallet beside him. He had inspected it with his eyes while eating, calculating, an interested mind already categorizing it.

The fox got up, brushed the crumbs out of his fur and transferred the piece of machinery to his desk and sat down. He reached underneath it, opened a small box and pulled out a device.

It was precious to him. It was a gadget he had been working on since he was three, improving it over and over again. It was the size of a small book with a big screen which opened to his finger's touch, the side of it having a rubber handle while a couple of buttons were on the other side of it. The casing was gray, though he would like to paint it yellow when he got that kind of luxury.

The device was rather simple as of right now. It could only scan and hold data, though he strived for it to be able to process large amounts of data, analyze and conclude it. He had chosen to ask for a piece of machinery rather than food to upgrade his device and he was proud of his choice.

Finding a screwdriver in the same box where the device had rested in, he began taking the wires out of his traded goods, tinkering with the outer casings. Even though he was concentrated, his ears were still turned towards his entrance, always aware of anyone that might stumble upon him.

This was his only hobby, something that he enjoyed doing, something that he could do that would make his mind temporarily transfer away from his situation. Even though he was used to surviving this life, there were moments where he wished everything would just quiet down. He had one wish that he couldn't get fulfilled but would do anything for it.

He wanted to leave the city - leave the system, get out of the web that kept him ensnared. Experience a new life. He had already been here too long and his situation was getting dire every single day. There were people he could go to in case things got tight but he kept to himself. He didn't want anyone to sacrifice their own safety to aid him.

With the wires installed and the device upgraded, the fox tapped life into his gadget. He clicked on a few settings and his heart skipped a beat as a single line displayed: 'ready for scan'.

Tails immediately put it on the table and rummaged around in the box, moving around small items and books before he stopped his search as his eyes caught the shine of sky blue light. He pulled it out, admiring it in his hand as he turned it around.

It was a gem, an emerald to be specific, but it wasn't ordinary. It fitted perfectly into his hand. The light blinded as excitement spread and he felt himself get lost in it. The power pulsed at his fingertips, energy that wanted out of there with no source to pass through. The fox knew what this was. And he had one. Shaking his head, he put the gem on the table, picked up his device and scanned it. The screen loaded.

A defeated sigh washed out of him once the screen read 'undetectable' despite him knowing what it already was. It was described in one of his books, one he had found tossed on the street by someone who wasn't superstitious. He wasn't either but he believed in facts. He had seen books alike in other places, talking about something called chaos energy and emeralds that held that power. When he had stumbled upon this light blue gem in a faraway corner in the city there was no doubt.

This was a chaos emerald.

Books spoke about chaos wielders: Mobians who could use and harness the power inside those gems and use it in a way unimaginable. Bend nature itself with nothing but a little light. He childishly caught himself dreaming about being one when the nights grew long. He could feel the power, the way that it felt right in his hand. But he couldn't unlock its secrets.

"Figures. Maybe the emerald is too powerful to be detected by my creation. Maybe I should take it with me tomorrow?" Tails shook the thought off him. He didn't dare take the device with him. He had fought quite a bit in the last days, and he was afraid that he might swipe his tails too much and it would fall out. The machinery part had almost been knocked away from the safety of his fur during the attacks today.

"You need to be more careful. Let's just look for a new place tomorrow and hopefully I can get it to work eventually."

The fox sighed as he packed the items away. He closed the lid and took a moment to look at it, wondering whether this could be his ticket out of the city. A childish thought since the borders of the city were guarded by soldiers. They searched everyone who came in and out of it. It was downright impossible.

A yawn escaped his mouth and soon he found himself scooting onto the pallet on his side. The rough wood wasn't comfortable by any means but it was better than the cold wet ground. With his arms underneath his head as a makeshift pillow he pulled his hooded cloak closer to himself, as his tails drew around his body as another blanket.

He wanted something else than this traditional and trivial survival. Everyday was spent looking over his shoulder, never settling down and never taking down his guard. He was always aware of his surroundings, even now as he closed his eyes. His sleep was light and aware, never so deep that he could dream.

Deep down he wished that his daily routine could change. A better life with no fear. He just wished. It was all he could do.