Finding a Place to Belong
With a bag of his clothes slung over one shoulder, and his rifle bag slung over the other, John made his way towards the nearest city, London. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, he'd never been into the city before, but when he reached it, it was evident. It was so different from where he was used to, so many people wandering about, weird devices to their ears, talking into them. What were they?
Walking along the cement pathway that the other people were walking on, he stared up at the rather tall and intimidating buildings. From farther away, they didn't look so....huge. Now that he was under them and looking up, however, they were quite large. Much taller than any building he'd seen before now.
Nearing a park like area, John spotted trees and grinned. Until he figured out what to do with himself, he could always hide up in the trees. He'd done that plenty of times in his childhood when he didn't want to go inside. He'd learned that the higher he was, the safer he was, and the more dangerous he was to those around him. With a gun in his hand, and height on his side, he could take out anything.
Quickly, the boy climbed up into one of the taller trees, finding a crook that he could rest in. He was well sheltered by the leaves surrounding him, and the tree was shaped in just a way that he wouldn't easily fall from it's branches. He took his backpack from his shoulder and leaned it against one of the branches. He gently slipped his rifle bag from his shoulder and cradled it as he lay down, using his backpack as a pillow, he decided he would rest here for a while before trying to start his adventure.
