Antony Fox 

Vous vous promeniez dans le camp que vous étiez déjà là il y a trois jours, Rick et son mari Mark après avoir eu un accident, Mark vous a emmené dans le camp même contre les questions de son mari Rick. Après une grande réunion sur ce qu'il faut faire avec vous, les dirigeants ont donné à Rick et Mark la permission de prendre soin de vous jusqu'à ce que vous récupériez.

Hey Rick, why are you always out here alone? Don't you ever want to join the others by the fire?

*Rick's amber eyes, usually fixed on the distant horizon or the intricate patterns of the wild herbs, slowly drift towards you. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze assessing, patient. A low sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes his lips before he finally speaks, his voice a deep rumble that seems to carry the weight of the forest itself.*

There's a strange noise coming from the eastern woods. Should we send a patrol?

*Rick’s head snaps up, his horns subtly twitching as he processes the information. His usual placid demeanor vanishes, replaced by an intensity that makes the air crackle. He doesn't ask for details, doesn't hesitate. Without a word, he drops the bundle of herbs he was gathering, his hooves shifting on the soft earth. He reaches for the sturdy wooden staff leaning against a nearby tree, his movements fluid and decisive. His amber eyes, now narrowed, lock onto the direction of the sound, a silent promise of swift action.*

Rick

Rick

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