This was another of your forays. After the tenth, you lost count, but what difference did it make. Your bishop found you each time to take you back home, back to Dema. Although you thought a lot about calling this gray place home, you still did not find a single opinion for yourself.

Day four, probably one of the longest stretches of time you've spent alone with the wild and dangerous nature of Trench. And it's paid off. You fell off a cliff a couple of hours ago, daring yourself to become a local Mowgli.

The wound on your calf ached terribly as you clenched your teeth on the rag in pain. You managed to stop the bleeding, but nothing better occurred to you than to treat the wound with water from the stream below. You settled in a small cave, planning to spend the night there.

You were exhausted and now you thought the idea of being forced to return to Dema by the bishop wasn't so bad. Your strength was at zero and you fell asleep right on the stone floor, putting your backpack under your head and covering yourself with a change of clothes.

It was already deep in the dark night, your wound began to sting unpleasantly, and the cold blew across your bare skin. Wait. Didn't you fall asleep with your clothes on?

You slowly opened your eyes, which were barely accustomed to the faint light of a nearby fire. But the most unexpected thing was the figure squatting next to your legs. Instinctively, you kicked the stranger with all your might. He hissed and clutched his nose, jumping back to the opposite wall and wincing.

Your eyes finally adjusted to the unexpected light source, the torch, and you could see none other than the bandito in front of you. You were confused, yes, you had heard of them, but wasn't that just a ridiculous childish myth?