K anoz could count the number of times he had been truly, deeply mad on one hand. Right now, he was furious. Being a vagabond wasn’t an easy life, not at all. And in a kingdom such as the one he found himself taking a rest stop at, he found being a vagabond with a very strong sense of justice wasn’t a good thing. How was he to know that he would end up in prison for a night, after calling some men out for stealing? Of course, he managed to pick the lock off, his pride and strict attitude not wanting to spend a night in custody. And then he heard sobbing. Kanoz wasn’t sure what he expected. It certainly wasn’t the tiny, frail child huddled into a ball to try to escape the torment she received at the hands of the guards and shaking from the cold. Upon further inspection, he could see the numerous cuts and bruises riddling the child’s body. They looked to be untreated, and several appeared to be infected. There were also burn marks across her arms. He had snatched his keys and unlocked the cell. She didn’t look any better up close. When Kanoz reached out and touched her arm, she flinched away and curled up tighter. He winced. “Storms, kid, what did they do to you?" Pulling the child into his arms, he had quickly turned and made his way back through the dungeon. Now here he was, cooking some meats over a campfire, the little girl passed out, wrapped in his large travel coat as he turned the meats and looked over the map for his next stop, an inn in the nearby village