The area was vast, dotted with quaint buildings every few steps.
Fatty wandered aimlessly, carrying the young boy on his back.
Along their way, they encountered several other players. But upon seeing Fatty and the boy he carried, they all quickly steered clear.
The night wind blew, and Fatty could feel the cold air slip down his collar and into his shirt, chilling his belly.
A continual throbbing pain emanated from his calf, but he couldn't be bothered with it right now.
Fatty could feel a moist, warm sensation on his back; it was blood from the boy seeping through his shirt.
Fearing the boy on his back might fall asleep, Fatty tried to make small talk as he carried him. "You look really young," he said. "What made you join the army at this age?"
"Actually, I just started my second year of high school this year..." the boy on his back replied weakly.
Fatty paused. "You're so young."
