Work in Progress*****
Miles never knew his parents, from his earliest memory he was on the streets fighting to survive. Muddy, wet, cold and hungry were the only things he knew for the longest time. He quickly picked up the ability to grab some food here and there. Pies on windowsills weren’t safe and often would be missing a slice or a half. Pocketing a small loaf of bread here and there made it so that Miles could manage to see another day. A day turned into a week, a week into a month and months into years. Finding alleys and nooks to hide in were easy but as things went missing it was harder to survive under the radar. By his 10th year Miles was growing somewhat more bolder as he hadn’t been caught yet and he started going for bigger prizes such as roasted leg of boar or leg of bird. Occasionally even a skin of wine or ale. It was one of these scores from the local Inn that Miles finally found himself caught in the act and shipped away to the Slave Fort.
It was at the Slave Fort that Miles earned his nickname “Fingers” and his mentor. The Slave Fort was a hard life for anyone especially a child.