Ruli sat on the cold ground, his knees up and his arms resting over them, his head back against a tree. It was a rather cool evening. Pleasant, as the spring had brought on a few unrelenting days of uncomfortable heat. It was nice to be able to relax. Still he sat, collected in though, in nothing but his light pants.
"Aye, yo." came a voice. Ruli felt something smack the side of his head. With a roll of his eyes he picked up the bag and glared at the one who had thrown it. It was Estre, the thick headed blond who fancied himself the king among their little band of brothers. "Don ye think ye get to sit and be pretty, princess." Estre snipped. "Ye set up with us, or we'll feed ye t'the wolves."
With a sigh, Ruli heaved himself onto his feet, not bothering to answer.
They'd been on the road for some weeks now, hoping to border the outskirts of the war ravaged cities, picking on the skeletons and carcasses of the less fortunate.
Rulitus had lived in the city that had been burned down a month ago. He had lived underground with a small army of children, all taught and raised to steal, when the attack came. The city couldn't even resist. It fell in three days. Ruli had barely escaped, only to be found by these ... creatures. They spared his life on his promise that he would make a great addition. Because of his history, he would easily be able to pick out where to hit and what to take from it, and where they could earn the best prices for their stolen goods.
Ruli bent down and began to work on a fire pit, keeping to himself. They were here, now, because he'd heard through whispers that there would be an eastern caravan coming through, carrying a great assortment of rare spices and porcelain. It would fetch a pretty price.