Samson stretched, dragging himself out of the ditch he stopped off in and back onto the road. He was moving, heading off to his other spot in the old drainage tunnels this part of the United States had to offer.

His two spots, while far apart and a pain to get too each time he had to move, were always isolated and relatively dry. Mostly. Certain seasons forced each one to be more wet than the other. And thus the reason for being out here.

He repositioned his bag on his shoulder, the thing heavy with his supplies and sleeping kit strapped to it, and started his way down the street. Taking the long way, skirting the edge of town and moving along the side streets, was the safest way he found to take. Not many people. Despite people making a point not to stare at the too skinny kid in ratty, too many layers of clothing. Obviously homeless.

There were a few houses, one that was large (larger than he could fathom with a much bigger yard) that he was pretty sure was used as a boarding school or something, but to be honest it creeped him out. He always made sure not to go down that road.

He began to hum to himself as he made his way down the street side, pulling his ratty beanie tighter over his head, keeping at the edge of the weathered asphalt to avoid getting hit by any of the drivers who rarely make their away around here.

((Sorry it took my like 8 hours guys. We started just as I was leaving for work and I've just recently gotten home.))