1 Early Comes the Dawn.

The ever present desert wind rustled against the metal plates of the caravan. It was dawn, time for the sleepy youngsters that lived here to rise and go to work, This was a travelling caravan that also acted as a small nomadic town. 

One after the other got up, yawning and stretching. Everyday was a hard day of work. But as long as they had safe walls and food at the table, they were more privileged than most in this part of the world.

The whole day was one of work either lifting heavy cargo or scavenging the ruined fields for treasure. When it was over, they were rewarded with the same old porridge of mouldy vegetables and have the strength for another day.

One of them always had trouble waking up early, she had collected the hobby of reading all the old books she could find. And that kept her up late into the night. 

"Hey, Its time to get up. Seventeen!" One of the kids placed his hand on Seventeen's shoulder and shook her.

Opening her eyes the same scenario in the last past eight years presented itself. She took her time to get her bearings, being awoke forcefully sometimes would make her confuse reality with dreams.

''Seventeen.' That's my name since this group of refugees took me into their ranks.' She got back her bearings. 

The caravans all over the world had the culture of inking small numbers below the right eye of the children they took in from outside to tag them. 

Remembering a number was easier than a name, and these abandoned children died a lot here.

"Why do you always need help to wake? Is it because you look at those bookiethings so late into the night?" The lad asked, somewhat exhausted.

"I'm sorry twenty, It is an hobby of mine. You can have a ladle of my portion tonight as thanks." 

She said, her mood sombre as she got up and placed a hand in her bald head.

The poorest people who had a nomadic lifestyle often shaved their heads, to avoid lice. Getting sick was a death sentence. 

And being fashionable was not as important as preserving their own life.

She followed close behind him. And he took the chance to ask. 

"Did you always had trouble to wake early? Even before you had theses 'books'." He asked as they climbed off the caravan train, one of the many that made up the whole caravan.

"Yes. For a long time now, I am sorry i can't really tell why. I don't know." She answered.

"You should fix that. I won't always have your back." 

Seventeen followed behind twenty and nodded to herself. 'Wish it was that easy..' .

"It is. Simply get off the bed and get to work. If you don't work you will get beaten, if you do, you get fed."

"Sure..." She looked around.

The caravan was mostly composed by refugees from many places. They travelled around the world either trading with the towns they visited, or scavenged ruins for treasure along the way.

The leaders were a group of the richest members, along with some of the folk that had been in the group the longest. There were many politics even among the people who lost everything. 

Seventeen did not care much about that, she always had things to do. More trouble wasn't worth the energy.

She lived here almost half of her life and she would keep doing it as long as she could. They soon reached where the adults distributed the daily chores. 

Her day's work was to help a merchant buy supplies in a nearby town. That meant carrying heavy stuff for a couple kilometres.

She did not argue. There were worse things to do, and she had been there. She followed the small group silently.

Five badly dressed and malnourished kids and a well dressed adult entered the small town. Extreme poverty was a very common thing in this part of the world.

Seventeen looked around, this was just another town. Beggars, the sick and corpses all around wandering the dirty mud streets, most died from some sickness or other. 

Others were shot in the place and none bothered to move them afraid the pox would get them.

Soon the group reached a shop. The goods were scarce and the quality lacking, of course the prices were also very high, not having much choice on the matter the man bought just the essentials that the shop had in it's possession and went away with his pockets empty, bringing home about half he pretended to get.

Seventeen and the other servant kids, which she only knew their numbers, carried the things the man bought stored in baskets tied to their back. There was mostly mouldy fruit in hers, she had gotten lucky with such a light load.

In the way back a commotion suddenly rose in the group's path. They stopped to see what was going on.

A bearded man was being erected on a cross by an angry mob with torches and pitchforks. 

"BURN THE MAGUS, BURN THE WITCH, BURN THE TWISTED!" They shouted. 

The mob shouted and jeered the man. 

Oddly enough to seventeen, this man who was about to be executed, but he just laughed in a hoarse and crazed way.

"YOU SEE ME! I EXIST! I AM HERE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA" He shouted in pain and madness.

He would repeat the same words over and over. It would not last very long though.

Soon enough his flesh was met with fire. Screams mixed with laughter filled this whole part of town.

For Seventeen that was long enough.

Such shows were a common thing. And having travelled the world Seventeen witnessed many similar things. 

This was considered normal at this point.

The merchant that lead them stood still, watching the event silently. And the servants just followed him. What they saw and did not see was irrelevant to him. 

They were just cheap labour in his eyes.

Seventeen was many times acquainted with death and misery, this was just another day for her. 

She did not find amusing like many thought. It was just sad really.

She averted her eyes and thought about quotes of her books to muddle the noise.

*THUUUD* 

Something hit her by the side knocking her down into the mud, another kid a little older and a lot stronger than her held her down. About ten other local thugs no more than twenty years old, surrounded her and kept her way from her group, taking her basket along with everything inside. 

Once they got what they wanted they quickly fled the scene. The locals just looked and spat, as for the local guards they did not even bother.

"You dumb f*ck! Get up and get the basket back! Or i will kill you myself!" The merchant that led her shouted in anger.

"But!?" Seventeen quickly got up and tried to argue.

The man in a mad rage kicked her in the gut with the tip of his boot and as she backed away in pain he shouted.

"GET MY STUFF OR I WILL KILL YOU RIGHT HERE, DON'T COME BACK UNTILL YOU DO!" He flailed his arm around in anger. Saliva spilling out of his mouth at her face as he leaned towards her shouting.

In fear she did as she was told and ran after the thugs.

'How in hell am i supposed to get it back from all of them?...' She thought in desolation running into the alleys as fast as her feet could get her.

She did not take long to find the thugs. They were sitting in a dark corner holding wooden bats lazying around and eating apples.

"Look who the rats dragged in." A big one with a scar across his face said as he held his bat in his shoulder. 

The others quickly circled around her.

"What do you want bald f*ck?" One of them said leaning towards her. 

"This Merchandise. It's not mine. They will kill me if i don't get it back, please..." She looked at the leader, the one with the scar as she said.

"What makes you think we won't?" The closest one answered.

With her gaze down. She fell in her knees. "I am done for either way." She said sombrely.

The leader, the one with the scar jumped down from where he was sitting and got close to her.

"That's it?" He asked as he lifted her chin up.

Seventeen looked away. Not holding his stare.

He took his bat and swang at her thigh toppling her over in the ground. She fell down in pain, however she did not mutter a sound.

"Are you going to cry now?" He asked with a sadistic glee in his voice.

She got back up now holding his stare. And shrugged.

"I have no tears for the likes of you. The merchandise. Give it back." She demanded again.

"Hold him!" He commanded and the others quickly took hold of her by the arms. She did not have the strength to resist. 

Before he said anything he closed his fist and punched her in the gut.

One time.

Two times.

And another time.

And another...

He made Seventeen into his punching bag. Ten long minutes. She did not mutter a sound as she took the beating, enduring it never passing out.

Soon the thug got tired. "Release him!" And she feel, on her knees.

But after struggling for some time, she managed back on her feet. 

Again holding his stare. "The Merchandise. Now." She said sombrely in a pained voice.

"What the grieving pits are you made of!?" He backed away.

"You want your god damned trash? Have it!" He tossed his half-eaten apple at her feet.

She crouched down and took it. 

"This is not all th..." She tried to say. 

"After this pitiful show, i think you are getting more than you bloody hell deserve. GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I KILL YOU!" He quickly interrupted her, shouting.

She looked at the cloudy sky. Sighted and turned back walking away.

"Lunatic." The scarred boy muttered. But she heard it.

Walking away, blood in the corners of her mouth seventeen could not help but think. 

'What now? I can't get back that man's merchandise. I can't go back empty handed either... Nor can I handle another beating... I need to fix this.'

 She walked into the town's main road.