I see people, banding together and forming into the communities they once were. Not quite societies, yet, but laying the groundwork for it.

I had celebrated the downfall of the old regime and lived a life of freedom within the chaotic rubble left behind. I had been my own man, held accountable only to myself, and I had relished the experience.

There had been times where I had my hand forced. Times where I acted out of necessity with an evil result. Who could judge me? God? God had to wait on me to die. Only man could judge you on Earth, and man had no power to execute sentence on me. Man was not omniscient and could not see all that I had done. Each town was a chance to start over. Each stranger was a chance to be someone new.

I killed a girl to avoid being discovered, to avoid being captured, and my pursuers managed to scar me in the process. A ragged mark across the face which would identify me to anyone who had heard the story.

The world is coming together again and I am preceded by my own infamy.