The glances and stares he was used to. Yet being warned was nice. Though the first few times... Had been rough upon the lad. As he followed he reminisced that day- the first day he ever fought in front of a crowd...<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">He had been in chains, shirtless and covered in dirt from a skirmish with a guard. His gaze half swollen on one side from a punch. His feet were cut up and sore frok the walk from the dungeons. He was very young, barely in his teens. Maybe even twelve. A poke to his back made him jolt forward, stares looked down upon him. People in town... The city.. nobles... The lad cringed as people stared. Judging him. Making him feel as if he was being judged for being a slave... For being punished for not wanting to kill someone.... He was being taken to the arena...</span><br/><br/>It was there the memory ended for him. It was then they were at the tent. Dropping it he licked Kate on the hand before going inside. His paws gracefully took him though the tent and he found the quilts and laid down. Gripping the blanket he rolled and covered himself. Closing his eyes, "Stares... I don't care of them but I don't want to be judged. Yet that won't matter... Kate... In the morning I hope we find something good. As for fish - I'm open to anything." He said and fell asleep.