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The sound of oncoming footfalls disturb the peace instead, and Lucca freezes in place, ears swivelling towards the sound. From what he could hear, the stranger's gait almost mirrored his own, however it seemed much more purposeful, confident, without the awkwardness that plagued the Blackthorn boy's own. At length, he turns, slowly and nervously, orange gaze locking onto a large form with golden-fur that nearly seemed to glow underneath the moonlight.

His question, delivered in a deep, thickly accented tone and punctuated by a rise of his lip causes Lucca to cower submissively. The man was large, bearing a coat marred with scars, and his presence demanded respect — a warrior through and through. He was a stark contrast to the far more gentle types he had met on his travels (save for grandma Apple, but her cutting remarks were lined with a certain type of joviality, a trait Lucca assumed this man didn't share in). I-I'm sorry, sir, he replied hurriedly, dipping his head so low his nose almost touched the ground. M-my name is Lucca Blackthorn, I didn't mean to get so close to your territory! Please don't hurt me.