It could also have had something to do with knocking up the neighbour's daughter. Sure, his uncle had warned him -- repeatedly -- to stay away from her. Of course, he hadn't, and the pitchfork that was waved in his face the day he found out was enough of a lesson to him to steer clear from then on out. But didn't that kind of thing happen every day? Maybe, maybe not. He tried not to think about it.
As the cart rolled across the town limits, searing pain flared in Hex's right shoulder, as it had so many times before. He gritted his teeth at the familiar sensation, tucking his head down into his worn cotton shirt. Hex was perpetually careful, not wanting to expose himself to the driver nor to the other half-dozen men sharing the back of the cart. He was looking for work, not looking for trouble.
But trouble had a way of finding Hex, one way or another.
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