Thorsten's recollections part one.

Although I don't remember the weeks prior to waking to find the inhabitants of Guttenberg slaughtered, I have a clear recollection of my youth and adolescence.

I remember my family's home in the shadow of Mt. Sawtooth in the Balinok range. The home was small, and modestly furnished. I have no brothers or sisters. My father was an older, cruel man, quick with the back of his hand and seldom sober. My mother was weak and distant. I was born late in their life, unexpectedly, as the midwives had told my mother she was barren after suffering several still births. Apparently I was both unexpected and unwelcome.

I remember the day I left very clearly. I was fourteen years old. I left at dawn the morning after a particularly vicious beating. I threw some clothing and a crust of bread into an old flour sack and followed the cart path to the Old Svalich Road.

Before sunset on that first day I spied a group of travelers headed North, the same as myself. I don't know what compelled me, but for reasons unknown, felt the need to remain hidden from them. I spent the remaining daylight hours hugging the tree line along the road, always behind them.

I spent the following day doing the same thing, always keeping out of sight, resting when they rested, moving when they moved. By the third day, my bread was gone, and I was very hungry.

Rather than confront them, I waited for nightfall, and snuck to the edge of their camp. The boy who they'd put on first watch was nodding off next to their fire, and their handcart with their possessions was there for the taking.

What a thrill! I pocketed several days worth of dried meat, and some cheeses from their cart along with a long carving knife, and made my way back to my meager encampment just out of sight of them.

I followed them for a week in this fashion. Each time a little bolder in my nightly forays.

That is how I found myself to the hamlet of Guttenberg. I initially camped outside of town for several nights, enjoying my freedom, and enjoying prowling the town at night.

On the fourth night, my luck changed, when I was caught by the innkeeper trying to steal meat from his smokehouse. I received the beating I'm sure I deserved for my transgression. His wife though took pity on me and seeing the generally poor condition of my belongings begged him to be lenient with me and to give me shelter. He agreed reluctantly.

The following morning he confronted me before I could sneak off, and made me swear under penalty of another beating that I would work off my debt to him for the next month. At first I had no choice but to agree, but I tell you this in all honesty, if it had not been for the kindness of his wife, I would have left the following day. Beating or no.

It was because of her, that the following week, I asked to be employed by him in return for food and shelter. His attitude toward me never really changed, but it felt to me like I had a mother for the first time.