Mmm, lotsa reasons. It's kinda complicated. Anything with my grandmother was.

[Amos purses his lips a moment, thinking, then wrinkles his nose before smiling again, crookedly. He did and does still love his grandmother, and regrets the wrong he did to her by running away: she had only been trying to look after him, as she had always done.]

First, to keep me busy so I'd stay out of big trouble: 'idle hands are the Devil's workshop,' she'd always say. Second, to keep me off the streets an' always somewhere there was people to keep an eye one me, so I'd be safer, see. Lotta monsters in my world think kids are tasty treats, or worse, fun playthings.

An' third, well. I look 'zactly like my father, her son, an' I think...she did care an awful lot for me, but I think I reminded her a lot of what she lost. My parents died in an accident when I was really little, see, so she raised me herself. I don't remember 'em at all. An' if I was busy at lessons, then she didn't see me as much.

[Amos is pretty sure that was the part of the puzzle he'd missed when he had been smaller. A less forgiving child might have resented it, but Amos had been secure in the knowledge that he was well-loved, and has a generous heart. He's always tried to believe the best of people.]

She was good to me, though.