Using the wall to drag himself up, Val stared towards the entrance of the alleyway with worry etched on his face. The fog was thinning, which meant he would become a visible prey on the street. Fellow thieves probably wouldn't do much to him, since he wasn't exactly flowing in wealth, but there were worse creatures, who would find a weak street rat an acceptable amusement for a miserable night. Leaning against the wall for support for a few seconds, he took stock of his body and all the places he hurt. Thankfully, most of the pain was in his back and shoulders due to him huddling in a ball during the beating.

  Finding his balance, he began heading to the alley entrance, while he glanced around for anything he could use as a weapon. The first rule of survival on the streets was to never go unarmed. Even a brick was useful if used right. Unfortunately, among the garbage and mud in the alley, the only useful looking thing was what looked like a half rotten wooden club about the length of Val's forearms. Picking it up, Val wiped off some of the mud, and tightened his grip on one end of it enough, so he had a firm grasp. But looking at his scrawny arms, Val sighed. If it was before, he wouldn't have even given it a second thoughts, but the knowledge that he had now depressed him. Being weak meant he could not get enough food. Not getting enough nutrition meant he would stay weak physically. It was a vicious cycle. Especially as a child, not eating right meant that there was a good chance of his future physical development being stunted.

  Shaking his head, he pushed the useless thoughts to the back of his mind and instead focused on the here and now. Being distracted on the streets was the same as asking for death, and he knew he had plenty of time to search all the new memories he had once he was somewhere safe. Walking to the alley entrance let him see more of the nearby street, which was maybe wide enough for around seven or so adults to walk side by side. It wasn't anything special. The streets of the Blascon District or the city's slums were narrow, filthy, and and maze like. In fact, the alley he was in was probably a street some time in the distant past that got blocked by someone building across it.

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  There no was artificial lighting in either direction of the street, other than moonlight, and Val's eyes quickly darted over the ramshackle wood, brick, and stone buildings looming on either side of the street. Some of the buildings rose a couple stories high with each floor built haphazardly, leaving the buildings looking like a pile of shoddy, uneven crates piled up on top of one another. Most of the doorways and windows were nothing more than crude, wooden constructs, faded and rotten looking and maybe even assembled together from wooden scraps.

  Val especially paid attention to these entrances, looking for signs of movement as he quietly slid into the street and began making his way home. Moving in the shadows whenever he could, he moved as fast as his bruised body let him. He was surprised that he could move as well as he was, considering how bad he had been when he woke up. However, considering the fact that his recovery was after his 'Awakening,' he wondered if the magic helped heal him. He had never been to the healing priests, considering how much they cost, but he had seen Bartolos feeding a magic healing potion once to someone, who had failed him and had been punished brutally for it. Of course, the potion was just enough to bring the poor bastard back from the edge of death, only to watch as Bartolos cut off all his fingers, slowly and feed it one by one to the man, himself.

  Momentarily hiding in a nearby alcove, he paused for a bit, observing the nearby intersection of streets as he shivered thinking about Bartolos. Val had no desire to once again meet the self proclaimed 'owner' of the 'rat pack' that Val belonged to. Though, 'owner' was a polite way of putting it, considering their lives were worth less than a loaf of bread to the bastard. It had been Bartolos' thugs, who had beaten him black and blue in the alley for failing to pay the 'tax' for this week, and Val had no idea if the beating he took was enough for them to leave him alone for now.

  Just as he planned on moving out of the shadows, he heard sloshing sounds coming from one of the streets stretching out from the intersection. He squeezed back into his hiding spot almost reflexively, forcefully controlling his breathing. Staying hidden, he waited quietly as the sounds of footsteps on the wet streets got louder, and a figure finally appeared out of the mist.