-[Brave Frontier]- [The Flickering Moth]

[Setting Stranger. 1] - ⟬Chapter. 1⟭

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[???]: ". . ."

With both of his eyes narrowed, the young man's eyes were focused on the grass below.

No, the correct affirmation in this case would be: this person spent the rest of his free time, perched on a tree and watching over.

As he shifted his weight on the tree he was sitting on. His eyes glanced at the grass, combing for any movement of the wind brushing against the green canvas.

But unfortunately for this afternoon, there was only a frail breeze flowing through his hair.

[???]: "I don't even know why I'm looking at, plain grass I guess. But, well... I guess there is nothing wrong if I do that sometimes, as long as I don't end up fixated on that. These green patches are kind of pretty under dawn—such a bad there aren't flowers to give more colors to them"

One would notice a hint of detachment in the eyes of the young man when he spoke. It seemed like he wasn't even convinced about the thoughts he voiced with his mouth.

With a little pause, he sighed.

[???]: "I should have thought before trying to come up with a tangent. But white lilies and sunflowers would have seriously done the job."

Forgetting about the bright dawn, his legs dangling about from the tree and swinging in a slow, rhythm, the young man began dwelling on half-thoughts and wonders.

Most of them would be discarded quickly, and some would take a few more time before they were discarded. Among them, there was one that would often come back.

One he often tried to shake off and forget about... But, it always stayed in the back of his mind, refusing to let go of him.

With a quiet sigh, he asked himself, yet again.

[???]: "How long has it been since I settled down like this? It feels like I messed around for too long to remember. Did I even go through winter yet?... No, not yet."

The reminiscence of the past made him feel slightly itchy as he lifted his chin. He wasn't content with the sudden sense of discomfort, both in mind and body...

However, It was not precisely the question that gave him that itch, although a close reason. 

The act of remembering itself was what caused the strange anomaly to itch on the back of his neck. Placing a hand on his neck, he gently scratched and erased the source.

It has been a long time. Yes, it's been, quite a long time, as he would recall...

'It's been very long indeed...' 

He affirmed to himself, a light smile on his face. 

'Very... Very long.'

For five months, less than half a year, more than a hundred-fifty days.

This person, called Zanku by the village, underwent a radical change in how he could see and live with the environment around him. 

He went from a comfortable sedentary life to a nomadic kind, never allowed to settle down for too long.

At first, he was confused and even hated it. A land where violence might happen at every corner would not change his opinion. But even so, giving it enough time, he grew a taste for the free adventure opened to him.

There were matters which he struggled with, but they mostly had to do with himself.

And then, there was this.