Ray sat in the last cart of the train, sitting with his backpack over his shoulder and closing his eyes a bit.

He was a wanderer, a scoundrel, someone who walks wherever he wants and does whatever he wants. He knew most of the Northeast like the back of his hand. And he was proud of it too. In fact, his train had only left the station and he was sitting on the back of it as it slowly moved, the whistle blowing to signify it picking up speed.

He sighed, relaxed on the crate he sat on.