Morning came to the forest slowly, light filtering down through the canopy in thin pale strips.
Shade was already moving. He had reworn his clothes before the sun fully rose, pulling them on in the dark and immediately noticing a problem.
His trousers ended at his calves. His sleeves didn't reach his wrists. Everything was tight across the shoulders and chest in. He was taller and not a little taller but considerably taller.
He didn't know the exact number but he noticed with the way the world sat at a different angle.
He shrugged and started walking.
There was nothing to be done about the clothes right now, and the discomfort was a small price to pay for being alive and having a perfect body.
He slung the duffel over his shoulder and moved through the trees toward the road, humming to himself, occasionally breaking into a small skip and hum.
He reached the tree line where the forest met the road and stopped just inside the shadow of the undergrowth.
The road was dirt and stone, wide enough for two carts to pass each other without incident. He watched it for a while. No soldiers or patrols.
Either word hadn't reached this far yet or they were focusing their search closer to the city.
He started moving along it, parallel, staying in the bushes, humming under his breath till he heard voices.
A voice, loud and and brash that lacked patience. Then a second voice, older, strained. Then a third, smaller of a child.
He could see a cart loaded with produce, vegetables and fruit piled high and covered with cloth, had been stopped.
Beside it stood an old man and a young boy, the boy gripping the side of the cart with both hands, the old man positioned slightly in front of him, trying to be a shield.
Facing them was a large man with a club leveled lazily in their direction, "You have to pay the toll," the large man said.
"Sir, we've never heard of a toll on this road," the old man said. His voice was steady but his knees clapped like todo. "We travel this path regularly. There has never been—"
"Well there is now." The man puffed his chest out and sniffed. "My toll, now pay it."
"We don't have money, this produce is everything we have. We're taking it to sell in the city, when we return I swear to you I will give you whatever—"
"You think I'm stupid?" The large man's voice went flat. "You think I'll wait around for you to come back? Give me everything you have. And the kid. I'll take him too.
Shade from the bushes muttered under his breath' "chill out Epstein, damn."
"No." The old man stepped further in front of his grandson. "Leave him be, take me if you want, but leave my grandson out of this."
The large man laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Take you? What am I going to get out of an old bag of bones like—"
A log connected with the back of his head with so much force, making a sickening crunch. His eyes rolled up, knees buckled as he hit the road face-first and stayed there.
Shade stood behind him, holding the remains of a large ass branch looking down at the body like he had just solved a minor inconvenience.
He tossed the log to the side.
"Well," he said. "That was fun."
The old man stared at him. The boy stared at him. The old man looked at the unconscious body on the road. Then back at Shade.
"Thank you," the old man said. His voice had gone unsteady with a greater hint of fear and confusion.
He wondered if this was a good Samaritan or another bandit eliminating the competition.
"Thank you, sir, how can i repay you?"
Shade looked at them both for a moment. "The produce." He nodded at the cart. "Is there anything I can eat right now that doesn't need cooking?"
The old man blinked. Then turned and rummaged briefly. He came back with several pieces of fruit, round and heavy and a deep reddish orange.
It looked like an orange with too much make up, the old man held them out with both hands.
Shade took them and placed into his bag before biting into one immediately. It was good, very sweet with a slightly sharp aftertaste.
"Thank you," he said. "You are free to go." "Sir, you should know—" the old man started. "I know," He waved a hand, "Go."
The grandson started pulling the cart forward.
The old man looked at Shade for another moment, then nodded deeply and turned to follow his grandson. Shade watched them go until the road curved and the cart disappeared.
Then he grabbed the corpse by the collar and dragged him into the trees. The man's clothes were rough but they fit. More importantly they reached his wrists and ankles, which at this point was what he needed.
He stripped the bandit efficiently, removed everything useful from his pockets, and piled it all to one side.
Some Coins, a short knife, piece of folded cloth that contained dried meat of some kind.
He dressed, checked the fit, struck a pose and gave himself the sizzle.
He looked at the corpse lying in the undergrowth in his undergarments and then looked at himself.
Even in rougher clothes he was aware that he stood out. The clothes were the right direction but he looked too clean, too well put-together.
He found a patch of damp earth nearby and pressed his fingers into it. He Rubbed some across his jaw and forehead. Roughed his hair with both hands until it sat at an angle.
Smeared a little more dirt along the back of his neck and the backs of his hands.
He stepped back onto the road.
Looked both ways and saw nobody, just the road and the trees with the distant sound of birds doing their bird business in the canopy.
He slung the duffel over his shoulder, adjusted it once, and started walking. Eating the rest of the fruit as he went.
It was a good morning, all things considered. He had his fingers back a brand new leg and clothes that fit. Breakfast was also solved, all in all this was a good morning.