
Shortly after Leena’s death, a gang had invaded the area. They called themselves the Headsmen, because one of the bigger boys had discovered a large cleaver in one of the deserted shambles nearby. With this weapon, he had easily convinced the others to accept his leadership. These dozen hoodlums quickly established their own territory, even killing a crazy hermit who contested their domain. The gang members were all a bit older than Gord, bigger than he, and much more aggressive. They promptly proceeded to deliberately make life even more miserable for Gord. Not only did he have to find food or steal it, he then had to get it back to his place of refuge without one of the gang members stopping him and taking it away. They seemed to be everywhere, and no matter how careful Gord was, they had often caught him and stolen whatever he carried. Because there was no other area of the city where a homeless and friendless beggar-boy could go, Gord had accepted the new peril of the gang as yet another obstacle on the path of his hard and miserable life. Now, with Leena gone, Gord was able to devour anything he found, but that meant what he couldn’t eat then and there must be left behind, or he risked having it and himself fall into the clutches of the gang. There was no margin for Gord, no store of food against a leaner than usual day.
“No help for it,” Gord thought. He had stayed long enough in this hiding place. Now it was time to set out again, and he had to risk carrying his valuables with him. He tucked the two coins in the fold of his ragged shirt, added the knife, and set out to see if something couldn’t be salvaged out of the day.
