Heroes by nature are forced into impossible situations. They must sacrifice everything or at least more than most to make the world better for others. Is the sacrifice worth the reward?

Wilson kept one eye open as he lay in bed. The lamps had been systematically unlit casting the orphanage into darkness. The youngest children had already been put to bed leaving the older kids to take care of themselves as the start of curfew approached.

The other boys in his room were ready for bed. Their night wore on and stops at the bathroom ceased. Even the new priest came by and checked that they were all in their beds. He made sure that nothing of suspicion was to be seen.

The locks on the windows were checked and the doorway out was watched at least for a while by that same new priest.

Wilson waited. He knew he didn’t want to get caught again. His roommates were likely to rat him out if it meant they were let off on some assignment or another that was meant to keep the orphans busy for the day.

He stayed silent but aware and awake. The night wouldn’t pull him into sleep so soon. He focused his mind on what he would do when the others were well and truly asleep. A part of his mind flashed to the man outside his door. A temporary measure at best and one that wouldn’t last the week if his warden wanted any good sleep. It was a matter of will and patience. He couldn’t be constantly checked so he wouldn’t be. He knew the obvious and unorthodox ways to leave so he would take the right path. Wilson had learned from his mistakes in that he wouldn’t be caught the same way twice. His bed would always be filled; with him or something else, it wouldn’t matter to the casual observer.

As night continued he watched his roommates. Their shifting and murmuring has slowed leaving them to comfortable rest without interruption. Once they gave that biological signal he counted down his secondary timer. He needed to make sure that they would stay asleep. Wilson didn’t need another incident. He would be more prepared for his outing.

The timeline hit its end and Wilson moved on to the second part of his plan. His sheets slid off and he carefully rolled his feet off the bed and to the floor. Making no noise as he stepped he grabbed his dummy. In the low light of night, it would stand in as him during his outing. It was pulled out from under the bed and quickly prepared. His clothes were already on so all he had to do was get shoes on and leave.

He grabbed his extra pair of shoes he had stashed, and his other items, and went for the window. It was locked from the outside. Difficult but not impossible and made just for him.

The window cracked open just a bit even with the lock before stopping. He was lucky it wasn’t a windy night though the cold air would be a problem if the temperature changed too much.

Wilson felt the cold of the window as he worked. His fingers barely reached through the cracks as he slid his lock-picking tools toward the lock. It would be harder to pick without a clear look at the lock, but he had plenty of practice. Once he fit his tools through the opening the rest fell into place. The window slid open further, and Wilson exited the orphanage. He slid the window closed as he stepped out while making sure to limit his noise.

Despite the late hour life was still shown through the city on a few streets and buildings. Adults gathered to take a break from the hours of work and relax whether it was food, drink, or people. Wilson made his way around those streets and kept from getting too close to their light. His dark clothes helped blend into the shadows, but they could only do so much.

After passing a few blocks Wilson turned away from the brightly lit streets and to a larger part of the city. And with the larger part of the city, there come more guards. Their occasional patrols were largely focused on the nightlife of the city though there were always exceptions. Valuable items and rare goods could be found by searching along the main thoroughfare of the city. Wilson wasn’t after those sorts of things at the moment.

The patrols and passing guards were obvious and predictable to Wilson. He saw their steps were a pattern that he could exploit. Rarely was there a deviation or one that mattered anyway. Tonight, they followed expectations, and he was able to navigate around them with ease. Some might be worried that the guards might be complacent or that crime would flow easily. But in the small city of Henoes, it was rarely a problem. So far away from everything else the people in the city had a purpose and had chosen Henoes as their home for good reason. They didn’t want to disrupt that.

Wilson avoided the guards and reached his destination. He circled the back of the familiar building and got to the back door. Knocking softly once he opened the door. Pots and pans lined the walls. Knives, spoons, and forks were sorted neatly in containers. The tables in the back were wiped clean, ready for the next day for orders and customers. To one side sat the large ovens waiting for the start of the day.

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Wilson popped his head into the front of the shop confirming that no one was in the front of the shop. It would have been a strange sight to see, but with the owners resting above his head, anything was possible.

His hands moved quickly through drawers checking for the items he was looking for. Once a minute he paused and listened for any unusual sounds before continuing. He was sure that no one was awake in the building. The drawers slid open slowly with a hand on the hinges to limit the noise they made.

Finally, Wilson spotted the sweet treats that he was looking for. The bag he brought with him was opened and the food was gobbled up. He checked for noise once more as the storage door was closed. Taking a step back he did a visual inspection of the place before preparing to leave. Now he just needed to retrace his steps and get back to his room unnoticed.

Shifting his tool bag, he started walking out. Each step made as little noise as possible. It was getting later, and people would be settling in from their night activities. The added noise would be of help, but he needed to be careful of the drunk townspeople. They were less likely to spot him but could be unpredictable.

Wilson's heart pounded softly in his chest, a steady drum that fueled his careful movements through the darkened streets of Henoes. He hugged the shadows, moving with a practiced stealth that belied his youth. His mind was focused, every sense sharpened to catch the slightest hint of danger. He knew the risks; getting caught would mean more than a stern lecture or extra chores. It could jeopardize everything he worked for, everything he was trying to prepare.

As he navigated the alleys and side streets, Wilson couldn't help but reflect on his situation. Was it worth it? The late-night escapades, the constant vigilance, the ever-present risk of discovery? He had asked himself this question countless times, and each time, the answer was a resounding yes. These moments of rebellion, of defiance against the constraints of his life, were the only times he felt truly alive. They were a testament to his resolve, his unwillingness to accept the hand fate had dealt him without a fight. It was one of the few things he was good at. He had accepted that fact and embraced it. Since then, his skills in navigating the nightlife had grown exponentially.

The cool night air brushed against his face, carrying with it the mixed scents of the city—food from late-night vendors, the earthy dampness of the streets, and the underlying, ever-present smog of industry. Henoes might be a small city, but it was alive, pulsating with the hopes and dreams of its inhabitants. Wilson felt a kinship with the city, a shared sense of determination and resilience.

As he rounded the corner to the final stretch leading back to the orphanage, Wilson's thoughts turned to the sweets tucked away in his bag.

Suddenly, a noise—a drunken laugh, loud and jarring in the quiet of the night. Wilson froze, pressing himself against the wall of the nearest building. He cursed himself for getting distracted. A group of inebriated townsfolk stumbled into view, their boisterous laughter and slurred words echoing through the street. Wilson held his breath, waiting for them to pass. He couldn't risk being seen, not now, not when he was so close to getting back unnoticed.

The group moved on, oblivious to the shadow that watched them go. Wilson let out a silent sigh of relief and resumed his journey. As he climbed back through the window he had left unlocked, carefully replacing the lock-picking tools in his bag, he couldn't help but smile. The window slid open, and he tucked himself inside. His feet hit the floor and he scanned the room.

Something felt off, but he couldn’t place it. Wilson jumped back when the light of a lantern flashed in his face.

“Out again are we?” asked Priest O’Brian with a smug grin. “You know the rules and the punishments.”

Another priest stepped forward and grabbed his arm. He wrestled with them, but their grip held firm. His bag was taken from him and thrown to the ground.

“Your free time this week is naturally gone. We better not find any stolen items in that bag. You will be watched by me throughout the week and expect to sleep uncomfortably for the next week in the cellar room. I know well that it isn’t one you can sneak out of.”

Wilson was pulled along out of the room. Waiting outside the door were his roommates waiting. They looked down silently. Their acknowledgment of him was small and subtle. They knew as well as he that Wilson couldn’t get caught and the consequences of leaving. Even more so they knew the consequences of hiding the fact that he left. He didn’t blame them though as they parted ways. His job tonight had been accomplished if a bit more complicated by his capture.

Wilson was dragged along to the basement and then the subbasement. He didn’t slow them down or attempt to plead with them. He had tried that path before, and it was not effective. Maybe when he was younger or with a different person, but he was supposed to know better and be a better example for the other kids in the orphanage. At eleven he was supposed to be a leader.

He entered the cellar. It was cold by nature. He had no blanket and a small spot with what could barely be called a mattress. The door was locked behind him. He could throw a tantrum and break some of the stuff down in the cellar, but that would cause more trouble and he had seen the outcome that could be brought upon another older child. He just tried to get what rest he could manage.

The next day he searched out his confiscated tools and stored them safely. His prize waited for him in the cellar. A great hiding spot for almost anything. It was brought out and presented to his little sister. It was left next to her bed. She enjoyed the dessert happily.