Wicker basket of apples and sunsettias in hand, you wander away from the safety of your red-bricked cottage as you listen to the harmony of sounds weaving delicately around you. The rustling of the leaves mingles gently with the restless calls of birds and the far-off rushing waters of the icy river that lies just beyond the trees.
And then there's another sound. Something that you can't quite identify. Yet.
The sound whistles past you again, carried to you on the breeze that sends crisp, golden leaves swirling around your ankles. You stop briefly to listen. There it is again. The littlest, quietest whimper. Not an animal sound, either. This sounds human.
"Hello?"
The sound comes again. You walk forwards at a leisurely pace, unconcerned about the threat of Hilichurls. This is easy territory, and you're confident that you won't run into any trouble, even if you do encounter them. You've lived in these forests all your life, and you've leaned about your surroundings, learning how to tell which direction you're facing by the lichen growing on the tall tree trunks, and knowing how to tell the
