Riley Locke, Samrann, age twelve.
And this was the day he saw an adventurer.
His caramel-colored hair was shaved in the sides, and in the center, he combed it to behind. He had a handlebar mustache, and his eyes were almond-colored. A splat of blood from the wolf ran over his cheek, and he looked over at the two children with a stern face.
He walked over to them, with his chainmail rattling and his sheath swinging over his waist. "What are you kids doing in here?" he placed his bastard sword over his shoulder and gazed at the two children. "This place is dangerous."
Riley looked at the man with sheer awe. He searched his mind for words. "W–we came looking for a deer," he finally said.
The man looked over to the pond and saw the carcass. "Good luck with that," he smiled.
