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Janik happily pockets 3 silvers and 3 coppers as you change. "I should charge ya more, lad." He makes the coins disappear into his pocket. "Well, since yer leavin', I might give ya a small farewell gift in the form of a discount." he chuckles and opens the door. "I'll be seein' y'around...Or not." 

Where ever you go, you are met with suspicious looks, sometimes outright hostile, especially when you begin suggesting money-related work. You note that, as an outlander, no farmer wants your help.
It is now mid-afternoon.
You feel hungry and thirsty.

You head out to the South. Soon you find yourself walking a packed dirt road, shouldered on both sides by tall fences, put in place by farmers to protect their fields. You estimate that you would reach the next village, Summerfield, by  midnight at most. The wind picks up, you regret not having a coat.
You will reach Summerfield on the night of the 12th.
It is now mid-afternoon.
You feel hungry and thirsty.

You leaped forward and ran to where you last saw the sheep get dragged into a sparsely wooded patch of trees. You could still hear it, it was close and bleating ever more frantically. You charge at what ever grabbed it, trying to scare off the animal that decided to make a meal of the sheep. You stopped dead in you tracks. Staring back at you were not the eyes of any predator you have ever seen before. Leaning over the, now barely moving, sheep it glanced up at you. It was a creature of legend to you. One from the stories that were often told by older folk, or minstrels. It was halfway between man and animal. The ram's head left the sheeps body, dripping with blood, and hissed at you. In it's hand it held a large, wicked looking, two bladed battle-axe. Without a moment's hesitation is leaped up and charged at you. Combat rating = -2   (4)Frantically you grabbed the first thing within reach; the hatchet held at your waist by a cord and rolled to the side. The axe bit deep into your back, enough to rend muscle and draw blood.(-1hp) Pain shot through you. You managed to fling your arm out, hitting the creature's exposed chest. The hatchet was used to split hardwood, it was sharp. Muscle and bone gave way. Blood covered your face. (5)The creature, blind with rage and bloodlust, kicked you in chest. The blow sent you to the ground. In a last desperate attempt you threw your hatchet. It flew true. Surprise flashed across it's face as it staggered back. Then it fell to it's knees and sprawled on the ground before you. The initial adrenaline began fading. You are more than aware of your wound.

"Heh, the South is different, they ain't got themselves beastmen to worry about, nor any other vile thing from the North. We make sure o'that. You'd find a peaceful job there. Then again, I've never been further than Summerfield, so how can I know?"

A farmer needs help with herding sheep. All you will need to do is make sure they say together and, in the evening lead them back to the farm. He promises a hot meal, a hot bath and a warm place to sleep that night.

The shopkeeper spreads his arms. "You could go to Tverdgorod, you're a strong lad, I am sure they would find a job for you there. Then again, I would not like to live in that place. Aye, it's safe from the beastmen, but getting screamed at by soldiers all day isn't my idea of fortune. You could also head South, then East. There are towns there. Far away, but they are there."

Finding work for a fit lad isn't quite hard in a farmer's community. An old farmer promises you a hot meal if you work in his field for a few hours. The work doesn't seem too hard. All he wants you to do is cut some hay with a scythe.

"Aye, seeing you gone wouldn't be a bad thing." he chuckled "But I ain't a saint, lad. Won't be givin' ye clothin' for free." He made his way to a big of cloth and slumped on it. "Ya got money to pay for it? Ya know me, I ain't picky about were it be." He then smiled at you, defiantly, as if challenging you to have money.