The warm summer air breezed against his sour face that hid behind strands of golden hair that brushed against his face, his slim and pale fingers pulling back strands that caught on his lips and in his pale lashes. His face began to scrunch with annoyance before it fell to a much more solemn expression.

The forest green of his clothes nearly washed him out of the summer night, blending in with the moss of the forest trees and the grass that surrounded him and that his fingers frantically tugged and picked at out of skittish habit.