William stepped into the blacksmith's shop, the air thick with the scent of molten metal and smoke. The blacksmith himself was a towering man, broad-shouldered with a bushy beard that seemed to frame his entire face. His strong arms were blackened from hours spent by the forge, and his eyes were usually steady and focused. Today, however, they softened with a deep sadness as William approached, pulling out the hunter's token.
"I found a clue about Little Bob," William said quietly, holding the token out for the blacksmith to see.
