The small leather bag swung back and forth in a regular motion from the side of the cart where it was tethered. The man walking beside the cart glanced at it frequently – almost obsessively. The cart was interesting in itself, laden with the items of a traveler of long years under old canvas. The wood it was made of seemed old, brown with a few white flecks of what might have once been a coat of paint, though it still seemed quite sturdy. The cart was hitched to a small brown mule, which was stooped with years, although it seemed reasonably well cared for. Although it was not an uncommon sight to be seen coming into town, there seemed something odd about the whole assemblage; perhaps it was the long scar running down the slightly too pale white skin of the mans face. Perhaps it was some odd bulges under the tarp. Perhaps it was the unusual speed that the cart was moving – just a little bit faster than it looked like it should be able too.

Whatever the reason, the few people around him backed into the shadows, and some of them pushed their children behind them. The man spared them an odd glance, laden with some emotion that might almost have been sadness, but was more like pity.

He came to a halt in front of the town store, not bothering to tether his mule. Upon stepping in he went quietly about the store, collecting a few items – a few pieces of clothing, and a wristwatch. He collected no food. After gathering these few things, he strode to the counter. The storekeeper eyed him with some suspicion, looking him from the simple leather shoes, to the small pouch leather bag tied to his waist, to the white blond hair on his hatless head. The man removed a small purse from a pocket that the storekeeper hadn’t noticed before and placed a few coins on the table. They seemed to be real, and more than paid for the purchase. The man simply shook his head when the storekeeper offered him change. He started to leave, but suddenly turned back and spoke quietly to the shopkeeper. He spoke quietly it seemed, not out of intent, but of simple habit. His voice as he asked where he could find lodging in the town was slightly husky, and perhaps a few notches higher in pitch then it seemed it should have been.