Glad kept to himself in the crowd that slowly gathered, all trekking in the same direction. The people around him now weren’t from his village. No one to stare at him, to whisper, to threaten, to hurt.
He had no idea where all of these people were going, but he went with them anyway. Because it was moving away from what lay behind him. He understood that had to be everyone’s reason. But while the people of his village had a specific person to blame, no one else seemed to know what was going on.
However, they all seemed to know where they were going, which was more than what Glad could say.
The seaside city loomed somehow ahead of him. He saw it the closer the refugees made it to the cliff. A stable face against the wear of the ocean which beat up against so much of it.
The boy could only focus so much on the whys. He was too tired, cold, hungry…
Glad collapsed ten minutes away from Castlehaven, where Winter would find him.