The pair stood before a small, decrepit wooden arch, broken and tapered at the end–the wood eroded and splintered away over time. It stood feebly, its extremities buried in the ground and separated from the fences beside it via shrinkage.

Further ahead stood a village, lit by the murky-bronze skies above. Narrow paths lined with heavily compacted and dried black leaves meandered haphazardly, flanked by cooked, sagging cottages with moss-covered thatch roofs.

These structures leaned upon one another as if conspiring; casting elongated shadows upon the dim, near-mauve soil.

The window frames of these buildings stretched along with the sagging of the huts, and some of the glass panes within were long broken and scattered along the floor. Others seemed to stretch along with the unevenly shaped frames.

A heavy fog cloaked the village, emerging from the surrounding forest which enclosed the edges of the village with a dark canopy.

On the other side of the fence, a man clothed in a simple white garb which hung down, almost touching the ground, tended to the grasses growing through the fence. The underside of his garbs was subtly stained a darker tone than the upper section due to the grass.

Swiping along the ridge with his scythe, he looked up at the pair as they approached.

“Back already, huh?” he said with a casual tone, his words punctuated by the severing of the leaves below.

Looking at the gardener, the robed man laughed in an almost forced manner, replying, “It wasn’t too difficult, you know how I am with directions.”

As the forest had separated at the entrance to the village, dim light allowed the boy to see more of the man’s face.

He had a short beard, hairs poking out like a bed of pins. His complexion was dark, surprising the boy. He hadn’t met anyone with an earthy skin tone in a very long time.

The man had long hair that fell behind his ears, reaching through to the beginning of his neck.

While the two engaged in conversation, the boy took his gaze over to the gardener, finding him more familiar. His skin was acutely pale, assumedly due to the meager portions of light available.

“Give those to him,” the robed man said, pointing to the bundle of berries cradled in the boy's arms.

Looking up at the man, the boy avoided looking down at his berries, handing them over to the man. He felt the man’s cold hands cup under his as he let them fall with a sickly noise, the dried liquid sticking to his skin.

“Here, rub,” the long-haired man said, catching the boy’s attention. He gave him a cloth, intending him to rub his hands on it. The boy obliged, looking away as he rubbed his hands on the damp cloth, feeling the sickly film flake off of his skin.

Observing with interest, the gardener interjected, “Well, I would assume Gilbert’s waiting for you inside. Hurry in,” the man said, before briefly sparing a glance at the boy, his words trailing off as he gave him a smile.

The boy nodded, although his smile gave him quite a feeling of unease. It was inviting, but the gardener’s lips seemed to part abruptly, the corners of his mouth stretching almost cheek-to-cheek. A close-mouthed smile.

As the boy retracted his gaze, he felt the gardener’s stay on him for a while longer as the two walked past, entering through the arch and into the village.

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The boy subconsciously widened his strides, sticking to the man’s sides. They didn’t talk much, the memories of the boy’s prior experience strangely receding into the back of his mind.

He looked around as they walked, taking in the dim sights of the village, many details obscured. It was full of life despite outward appearances; children ran about along their guardians, engaged in innocent play, while stands offered goods for sale with parental permission. Lanterns hung from posts, ready to be lit as the light above began to dim.

The villagers didn’t pay much heed to the boy, but he had a nagging feeling that they did see him. His back felt vulnerable, as if their gazes were accumulating as he passed.

Unwilling to turn around, he huddled closer to the man as they walked, eventually reaching an area where the sounds of joyful screaming were centered. Standing there, hounding out futile orders to a group of children in an outing was a middle-aged man, slightly hunched over. His hair was grayed throughout; strong, brown strands few and far between.

He was dressed in another robe that seemed to be customary of the village, reaching down to his ankles. He walked barefoot, very accustomed to the soil below.

The two came to a stop behind him, unsure of what to say. The man continued barking orders to the group of playing children to get them to relent, his words thoroughly fading away as they continued playing, akin to smoke battering a mountain face.

Sighing, he shook his head and perked up slightly, "So, are you just going to stare at me like a ghoul or are you going to tell me who the kid is?" his harmonious voice sounded out as he turned around slowly to face the man beside the boy.

Due to his hunched posture, he stood at a height slightly lower than him, looking upwards slightly with unfocused eyes. Gilbert's relatively smooth face revealed surprisingly few wrinkles, save for a scar near his left ear.

“Well, I’m not sure, Gil,” the man next to the boy said in jest, “I only just brought him here.”

“And why?” Gilbert asked once more, to which the man fell silent, looking toward the group of children behind him and back. It seemed that it wasn’t suitable to discuss the topic here.

“Hm…” Gilbert’s eyes widened slightly, looking towards the boy for a moment. His eyes were a bit inaccurate, looking sideward at the boy at the soil behind him, constantly readjusting. “What’s his name, then?” he asked, hopeful that the man could provide this, at least.

Embarrassed, the robed man looked at the boy, anticipating his response. But before the boy could speak, Gilbert let out a sigh.

“You two don’t even know each other’s names?” Looking up at the man, he continued, "Ah, I should have expected this from you. I didn't ask you to kidnap a child; I asked you to investigate."

Caught in uncertainty, the robed man met the boy's gaze, unsure of what to do. He thought he’d done as instructed.

“Well, this here’s Iliad,” Gilbert said, gesturing to the man while his eyes were slow to follow.

“You are?” he asked, lowering himself as his eyes finally adjusted to meet the boy’s, addressing him directly.

The boy, still unsure of his surroundings but uniquely composed nonetheless, gave a succinct response. "Heath."

“Was that so hard, Iliad? You’ve gotta make your captives feel comfortable, at least.” Gilbert said with a smirk.

Finding amusement in Gilbert's remark, Iliad's lips curved into a smile. He lightly jabbed Gilbert's shoulder and quipped, "Speaking from experience, old man?"

Gilbert felt attacked, “Old man!? I’m only just nearing my middle years.”

The air finally lightening, Heath began to relax, though he felt that the tension had lightened unnaturally. He perked up as he saw Gilbert intending to ask him a question.

A shriek suddenly sounded out from behind him, immediately dropping Gilbert’s rising eyebrows. It seemed that two children had gotten into an argument, shrieking at one another as one huddled on the ground, shielding a slight scratch on their leg. They began calling out for Gilbert to help.

Frustrated, Gilbert couldn’t bring himself to turn around just yet, his weary eyes turning to Iliad. "Could you show him around? My old bones are already creaking from their shenanigans," He said, pointing backward with his thumb at the kids playing behind him, who had persistently disregarded his instruction.

"Sure," Iliad replied, promptly turning around and gesturing for Heath to follow.

Before the boy could follow, a child ran past Gilbert, accidentally shoving Heath. The child stumbled, before turning around in concern, apologizing.

“Are you alright?” they asked regretfully.

Heath was mostly unbothered and responded without much gravity, “It’s okay. It was an accident.” He nodded and began to turn around when his hand was gripped by the boy rather tightly.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asked, excitement evident in his eyes. A giddy smile was quickly growing.

Heath wasn’t very comfortable with the situation but didn’t want to be rude. He lightly pulled his hand adverse from the boy’s grip, signaling that he wanted out.

While doing so, he answered, “I just got here…” His grip suddenly broke free from the boy’s grip, the force of which causing the boy to fall backward. He laughed loudly, but Heath began to feel a bit guilty, bending down to offer a hand.

“What’s your name?” he asked as the boy grabbed his hand, pulling himself up with his assistance.

“Ryan!” he responded almost immediately, battering Heath with questions.

“Where will you stay? Is Ili your dad?” He began to pull Heath along, away from the group and the two men, making their way toward a particular building. His pale brown hair bounced as they ran, his freckles stretching as he excitedly led the boy on.

Heath didn’t have the wherewithal to answer his questions, thoroughly unnerved by being separated from the group.

Behind him, Heath could hear muffled voices.

"Looks like he already has a guide. Be on your way, we can discuss more later." Gilbert said as he waved Iliad off, who sauntered away toward a hub nearby.