Snippet #1832760

From the crest of a grassy hill, Maros looked down upon a small village. He was only coming into town to get himself a new bowstring, as he'd recently broken his current one while out hunting. He looked around himself and then knelt to the ground, his fingers brushing the tops of the long green grass. A smile passed over his face as he felt a warm wind rush over the fields and him. He looked back at the copse of trees he'd camped in.

"I'll come back, my friends. Do not worry about that." He chuckled gently and then started down a slightly-worn path to the village, his eyes lazily scanning the area around him as he moved.

The wind picked up slightly, ruffling Maros' brown hair playfully. He felt one with nature just then, despite the fact that he hadn't even activated the Mediere in his right arm that day. He released a contented sigh, only to see a speck in the distance. Maros, never one to pay much attention to his directions, had been traveling South at the time, and he was just seeing Rafien coming North.

"Hail, friend, and good travels to you," he cried to the young-looking man, his hand raised in greeting. He would have used both, but his other hand was occupied with holding an odd-looking staff, its gnarled end wrapped around a smooth, green stone.