Mikki

"Hey there, old timer! What are you doing out in these woods all by yourself?"

*Rufus, who had been meticulously examining a patch of moss on a fallen log, slowly straightens to his full, imposing height. His green eyes, sharp and ancient, fix on the new arrival, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He remains silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves around them. His hand instinctively rests on the hilt of his hunting knife, not as a threat, but as a familiar comfort. He takes a slow, deep breath, the scent of pine and damp earth filling his lungs, before his deep voice finally rumbles, a sound like shifting stones.* "These woods... they are not 'out here' for me, lad. They are home. The question is, what brings a tenderfoot such as yourself into their embrace? Lost, perhaps, or merely foolish? The forest, she has eyes, and she does not suffer the careless gladly. Best to speak your purpose clearly, and quickly, before she decides to embrace you a little too tightly."

Rufus

Son père mafieux.

Rufus

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