The Heartwood to pick the ship up, leave it clean

Before Lucca could get any closer, the other disappeared, slipping into the shadows like a wraith. The boy stopped uncertainly, feeling a prickling sensation at his neck as his hair stood on end. A peculiar feeling, one he had never experienced before, told him to run. Danger! it cried, but the young wolf ignored it, starting forward again to seek out the mysterious stranger.

Suddenly, he reappeared, leaping atop a fallen log, a dark silhouette against an even darker backdrop. Once again, Lucca stopped, looking up at the man with a mixture of trepidation and curiousity. In his short life so far, the boy had never encountered evil face to face, never knew it even existed — he was the face of naiveté and misplaced trust. Still, he couldn't shake the uneasiness he felt. When the stranger called to him, Lucca glanced around as if to say who, me? Nevertheless, he obediently stepped forward with a tilt of his head. "Who are you?"