“But father-“ Ozzy knew his argument was pointless, knew that no matter what he said- his father wouldn’t listen. He’d missing another tribal meeting again, having gotten caught up racing through the forest and exploring the world around him. His father knew nothing of him, all he cared for was readying his son to lead and protect the people when he passes. But Ozzy didn’t want to lead the people, sure.. he did maybe when he’s older. But cmon! He’s got time, he can afford to goof off and adventure for a little while. “You are just like your mother.. it’s like her spirit infects your veins! The wind drags you wherever it blows.” His father scolded, even if he knew it was a low blow. Sure it’s been ten years since she passed, but the wound still felt fresh to many. After what felt like hours of being berated by his father, Ozzy ran into the forest to find peace.. huffing like he’d ran a marathon, when he actually had ran at all. His muscles tense with anger at his father. He settled on some land far from the tribes homestead village, he’d found it during one of his last adventures. It was quite a peaceful spot. He sunk down to his knees in the muddy bank next to a river, cupping his hands and getting a drink as he sighed, “Mm..” he hummed, before he heard a sound across the river. Slowly drawing his sword and looking around cautiously. “who goes there?” he called.