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Samson
The sun was rising slowly behind the pyramids, casting them in a gold and orange glow. They seemed otherworldly. Samson watched until daylight was nearly at a full brightness and then slid down the sandy bank of the dune he had been sitting atop. He trotted into the Egyptian village he had decided to call home. He smiled to other kalons as he passed and gazed at the colorful market stands linking to dusty street. This village was not the wealthiest, but it was definitely the friendliest and it felt like home. Samson knew he could help them. He made his way up to a stand decked with fruits and vegetables of all sorts and nodded politely to the kalon running it. He purchased some cucumbers and peaches and carried the bag back to his home on the outskirts of town.
He had no neighbors in sight, and the desert stretched out around him; a beautiful orange in contrast with the deep blue sky. Chickens pecked at the dusty grass and did not startle as he passed. Laundry was flapping in the breeze out on the line where it was drying. His gray stone house cast a shadow and he felt the hot temperature dip slightly as he passed under it toward the door. This was his home. He pushed inside and set his produce on the table before watering his various houseplants. All of the windows hung open, letting sunlight scented air inside. Glinting, golden treasures and artifacts could be seen around Sam's home. He had found all of them, but the most expensive and valuable discoveries had been sold to museums in anonymity. He took as much money as he needed to live comfortably, and then dispersed the rest of it throughout his village to help where he could. The objects around Sam's home held personal value and sentiment. Some frowned upon what he did. They called him a grave-robber. But he knew the ones who needed this treasure the most were the living.