On a wet and cloudy morning, in a vast expanse of forestry, under the cover of a large, wide-trunked Dinizia tree, lay a young man, no, a young boy. His features weren't well defined and some baby fat remained around his chin and cheeks, giving him a youthful cuteness. He reclined with his unmanaged, long, damp hair covering his eyes. Letting the droplets fall to his eyelashes, causing them to twitch each time. The smell of wet grass and wood sat at the bottom of the forest and wafted about, as it pleased.

The soft sound of showers in the background, and coos and calls of strange animals in the foreground seemed to lull him to sleep. It was a strangely peaceful sight; a young boy lying on damp mossy greenery in a rainforest. Alone, in a rainforest, at the crack of...sunrise, perhaps. You wouldn't be able to tell night from day in this weather and hidden away with leaves for a ceiling.

His small chest rising and falling with the sound of small, but deep, patterned breaths. He was asleep.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, turned to his side and once again, closed his eyes comfortably. The rise and fall of the sun seemed to have no meaning in the face of a child's uncaring, lazy nature. He was asleep again.

After tossing and turning a few more times, he seemed to give up as his dark brown eyes stayed open this time. No shine or glitter were present in his eyes, simply a reflection of the shadowy green wetness he called home these nights.

Despite being awake, he remained in 'bed', perhaps waiting for something to happen? Then, his voice squeaked out

"Blanket gone. Cold." True enough, with no blanket, on wet flooring through the night, the boys skin was red at his extremities. He sat up and raised his hands to his still covered face and began rubbing them together.

Rising to his feet with similar pace to that of a snail, and the sounds of bones cracking, the boy stretched all the way backwards, letting out another series of musical cracking with a large deep seated groan of satisfaction "GYAAAAHHHHH-hewww"

Satisfied, he looked around and was on his way. His footsteps did not make much noise, save the odd squelch as he stepped on especially damp forest floor. He walked unhurriedly, with a lean in his step, seemingly aimlessly. However, the lack of hesitation suggested he knew where he was headed. As expected, he eventually was reaching what seemed to be an exit from this damp and dark being. However, there was no light at the end of this tunnel, so to speak. Instead, there was simply less dark. As he left the forest into a wide expanse of simple plains, his feet remained as lazy as ever, and yet purposeful. The grass lay flat, full of water but seemed long enough to sway in the wind, if there ever was any. Blades without any colour, yet would glisten green with just a bit of sunlight. He stomped through, with light footsteps.

While walking along his predetermined path, he was looking around every now and then, scratching away at his non-existent beard. He came across a group of pebbles and adjusted his course, a little to the left. He began to whistle as his lean became more evident. One might expect him to fall over backwards at this rate. And one would be right. It was a shame no one but the damp grass and gloomy skies were lucky enough to see such a comical change in character. His light footsteps became heavy pounding. Although, it didn't seem to leave behind too much of wreckage as he was too small a character.

As the grass grew thinner, and the clouds were left behind, more light was shed on the earth and a small town of sorts appeared. Quickening his pace, the boy soon arrived and what welcomed him were mostly shacks and stalls for bartering.

The smell of warm, freshly made bread replaced the wetness that was previously overpowering. The fuzzy feeling that comes from being near warmth after being drenched and damp was pleasantly present too.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Trotting over to a stall with steam carrying the scent of bread, the boy pulled out coins, seemingly from thin air, and handed it to the kindly old woman keeping the stall. With a smile and a wink, the old lady kept the money and gave two warm loaves of bread wrapped in a see through bag, that steamed up as the bread went in, making it no longer see through and more opaque. The boy smiled cutely and skipped away to a nearby bench.

The sunlight and small crowds yawning though the stalls and shacks suggested it was now just past sunrise. People were waking up and the day was starting for the world. Warmth following a cold night. It was going to be another fantastic day.

With a full belly and eyes no longer squinting at the morning light, the boy seemed to stand taller and stronger. He leisurely made his way out of the community of stalls and shacks through the opposite end he entered from. Following the path, he soon arrived at a real village. At the front were rickety carriages with small donkeys to pull them. No signage or gate to enter from. With houses of wood, and a lack of greenery, instead replaced with the hubbub of the less fortunate. Although, the less fortunate, in this case, seemed perfectly happy with the fortune they'd been dealt. The kids chased and laughed as they would in any other city, the old men sat and spoke in the open, as had been done for decades and the women spoke as they watched the children and the men. All was similar to those of opulence, save for a bit of dirt and grime.

The boy moved past the hopeful scenery and arrived at unassuming wooden house. The house was less than ordinary, even amongst this ragtag group of homes. Perhaps that made it an extraordinary house?

The door was hanging and swaying and creaking. There were holes in the walls, too. However the roof was good enough. The small, single roomed cube of a house was the boys true home. It was further away from where all the people currently were. The house was isolated, despite being surrounded.

He walked straight in and looked around for a moment. Half of the room was occupied by a cupboard. The cupboard was the most secure piece of hardware in the house. Beside the cupboard was a relatively large wooden tub. The tub was circular and reached up to the boys knees. It had handles that were, surprisingly, sturdy enough to hold. He grabbed the tub and walked out of his house. Walking a little further, he came to a well. He positioned the tub, then grabbed the lever with both hands and jumped, leveraging his little weight to push the lever down. Water came gushing out of the tap and into his tub. After one more time, the tub was full. The boy bent over and lifted the tub with shocking ease. Although, he began walking sideways back to his house. Once inside, he stripped off his clothes, rather he peeled them off. His clothes stuck to his body due to the muddy water and grime he slept in the previous night. His clothes came off to reveal a not so scrawny body. His forearms and chest had some development, but what was shocking was his legs. The legs did not seem to belong to his body. They were quite large and, although not defined, the muscles on his upper leg and calf's were evident.

The boy dropped his clothes into the tub and began rubbing them against themselves. His forearms flexing as he did so.

Eventually, his clothes were mostly rid of the original grime so hung them roughly on the cupboard handle behind him. He then took his tub and exited the house. Naked.

A few minutes later, he returned with a tub of clean water. He sat the tub in the center of his cuboid home and used some water to wash his face, hair and privates. He soaked the clean clothes into the new tub and then hung them back on the cupboard handle.

Finally, opening the cupboard to an unexpectedly clean set of clothes, the boy took out three pieces.

One: a black shirt that was slight tight to his skin. Two: a pair of white shorts used as undergarments. And three: an extremely oversized piece of fabric. The fabric was a light shade of red, with no patterns present. It reached from his belly button to just above his ankles. He wrapped it around his waist then tucked it in.

The boy took another look at his house, and then set out. Making his way back to the entrance, he arrived at the carriages. There was no chance there would be a stable for the carriages in a small broken village such as this. Instead, the carriage drivers stayed around their own carriages or tied them to trees.

Walking up to one of the drivers, the boy threw a coin at him, then hopped into the back of the carriage. This carriage in particular was quite well maintained. It wasn't as creaky as the others, and it even had a cover for the passenger to sit inside. The driver himself was also quite well groomed; a small beard, trimmed close to the skin. Strong eyebrows over dark brown eyes. Wearing a red vest and tight fitting black pants. The man seemed professional enough to work in the big cities. Seeing the lackadaisical and monotonous behaviour of the young boy, the driver couldn't help but to let out a wry smile. He wasn't sure whether it was something to smile at or be sad about. Regardless, he received his money so he sat in the drivers seat and got his donkeys to start on their way. Riding past the stalls, and onto the path, the carriage turned right and drove off into the distance. The village was undisturbed by this sudden arrival and departure and none of the residents were aware at all. Besides the clothes in his cupboard, there remained no real signs of the boy having ever been here. Not through relationships with the people, nor by having a lasting memory casted onto those around him. He left as he arrived; unannounced and unnoticed.