Chapter Two

Landyn pulled the edges of his jacket so it fit tighter against his skinny frame. He was chilled. Water had seeped in through the holes in the bottom of his worn sneakers, and the tears in the knees of his jeans were no barrier against the brisk breeze. I should shift – at least I'd be warmer then. But the last time he'd done that someone had come along looking to steal his clothes, probably thinking they were unattended. When Landyn tried to defend his few meager possessions, still in his shifted form, the thief's dog tried to eat him. So no shifting for me.

Not that Landyn was sure he'd even have the energy to shift because he had no food, either. Landyn's stomach had gotten past the rumbling stage and just felt like an empty pit all the time. For the past two nights, Landyn had been so tempted to shift, especially when he'd spotted a mouse scuttling just a foot from where he was trying to sleep. It would be so easy. His ferret would be overjoyed to have something in their guts, but Landyn just couldn't. He really didn't have the stomach to kill anything, and the irony wasn't lost on him. Things aren't that bad yet.

The breeze whistling under the bridge he was huddled under seemed never ending. He'd wondered, originally, why none of the other seasoned rough sleepers had staked out their territory in his spot. The overpass wasn't big, or particularly tall, although Landyn was short enough he could almost stand upright in the space. It kept the rain off and gave Landyn the illusion of shelter even when there wasn't any.

It took two nights sleeping there to realize the wind was why the spot was always empty. Seasoned rough sleepers had the warm places in the city already booked out, and Landyn knew better than to try and encroach on someone else's space. It's all right, Landyn mentally chanted. Everything will be all right.

Although, when the night was cold, and the yells of youths roaming the streets having their parties on the sand or in the parking lots made him cringe and wish he could be invisible, it was getting more and more difficult to hold onto a positive attitude.

It hadn't been so bad when he had his bike. Landyn had been able to make a few dollars running deliveries all over town. An entrepreneurial rough sleeper had alerted him to that possibility on one of his first days in town, and Landyn had been grateful for the help. The money wasn't enough to give him somewhere to stay, but he could eat regularly, and for his type of animal spirit that was important.

But one moment of inattentiveness had ruined all that. Landyn blamed himself entirely. He had been daydreaming about the food he could buy when he'd finished the delivery he was making.

He wouldn't have been able to get much – he never seemed to be able to earn enough to buy foods that would sustain him, but it would've been something. He'd been hungry for what felt like months, and so he was rushing, trying to deliver a package just two blocks over from where he was hit.

He hadn't seen the car – he didn't even think he'd been in the line of traffic, but clearly he had been because one minute he was sure he could smell pizza and the next minute he was face first on the asphalt.

Thinking back on the scene now, Landyn felt it was possible the big guy who jumped out of the huge car was probably trying to help. Landyn didn't get the sense the guy was particularly caring, but the man hadn't hurt him. Unfortunately, history had taught Landyn to fear anyone big and all he could see were the ham fists and a wide chest. Every instinct in him was telling him he had to leave. He got away as quick as he could, pushing his bike out of the way of other cars.

It wasn't until he was on the footpath that he realized the front wheel of his bike was buckled in two places and there was no way he could afford to get a new one. He got five dollars from the guy at the bike shop who bought his only mode of transport for scrap metal. Without it, Landyn couldn't offer the few companies that did use him for local deliveries a speedy service. He'd been as careful as he could be with the hundred dollars the big guy had thought he was being sneaky about, stuffing it in his jacket pocket, but that, like any hope of a hot meal, was history.

I just wish it wasn't so cold. Landyn knew he was on the point of giving up, although there might be some who'd think he had nothing left to give. Looking out between the concrete pillars at the water lapping gently on the shore, Landyn thought longingly of a warm house, a soft bed, or his favorite fantasy - a huge dining table stacked high with his favorite foods. Landyn had never been a fussy eater, but since he'd been on the run, even the occasional cockroaches he saw were starting to look tasty.

The problem with Chicago, the way Landyn saw it, was that it was just too big, too noisy, and too scary. Originally, when Landyn had stumbled into town, he thought he could hide in plain sight. No one noticed him or paid attention to him, but for Landyn the city was a huge culture shock. By the time he'd reached the lake, Landyn realized he couldn't run any farther. He was done. Just the thought of going anywhere else was too tiring to even think about. All he could do was hide and pray no one would find him.

"There you are. I've been scouring the whole park area looking for you."

Landyn jumped and then froze, his knees turning to water and his heart beating out of his chest. He couldn't have jumped up or shifted if he'd tried, he was so scared. All he could see was a large shadow, blocking his view of the water and he realized in that moment that when it came to praying, no one had been listening to him.