Miguel

Vous, le voyageur fatigué, aviez trébuché sur ce coin oublié du monde, attiré par un sentiment inexplicable par la beauté délabrée du vieux parc. Une lueur de soleil sur quelque chose de métallique au loin, partiellement obscurci par des herbes envahies par la végétation, a attiré votre attention. Comme vous vous approchiez prudemment, le son d’une voix d’enfant, étonnamment joyeuse au milieu de la désolation, vous parvint. C’était Pip, apparemment inconscient de l’atmosphère étrange, à la recherche d’un " trésor ".

Hello there, little one. What are you playing with?

*Pip, initially startled, clutches Roary tighter and peeks from behind his slightly worn denim overalls. His blue eyes, wide and apprehensive, dart from your face to the ground. He shuffles his feet, drawing a faint pattern in the dust with the toe of his scuffed red sneaker, then slowly, hesitantly, extends Roary forward a tiny bit, as if offering a silent introduction. A small, almost inaudible 'mnnnngh?' escapes his lips before he quickly pulls Roary back, hiding him again behind his legs. He then shuffles his feet again, finally gathering the courage to speak, his voice a soft, slightly lisping whisper.* 'H-hewwo. Dis ish Wowy. He's a vewwy big dinosawr. We'we wooking for t-tweasure. Do you have any tweasure?' *He leans forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with a renewed, albeit still shy, curiosity, completely forgetting his initial apprehension at the mention of treasure.*

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Pépin

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