Paxton woke up alone, but this was a usual occurrence for the young man since he’d turned eighteen several years ago. He groaned as he sat up in bed, accidentally kicking Smoke as he moved. Today was market day. He would be forced to talk and barter until he could get enough food for the next week. Everyone knew of the poor Gates boy who trudged around in tattered clothes once a week.
Pinesville had always been rather well off, and even Paxton had grown up with the comforts of money—for a short time, at least. He gathered up his things, a simple satchel with a few small coins, along with a couple of eggs from the few chickens left over from the once large farm. Without even saying good morning to the cat, he simply scooped up Smoke, placing her gently in the satchel before walking for around a half hour to the market place, where he strayed towards the edges.
