Sawyer had always been a free spirit.

Born to a veteran tracker and an unknown father, Sawyer had, as his mother used to say, wanderlust in his veins. From a very young age the boy would go with her on expeditions, eagerly absorbing his mother's vast knowledge. He was good with animals and had a knack for hunting and foraging; by the time he was ten summers old, he'd already been a licensed novice scout.

When Sawyer's mother went on an expedition she'd deemed too dangerous for him and never returned, the boy decided to strike out on his own. He'd been wandering since, selling information on his finds to the local guilds where he went, trading furs and herbs for coin and a warm bed. He had flings wherever his travels would take him, but never stayed in one place for too long, always following the wind.

But now, his wandering soul was at risk. His heart had always been fiercely independent, but when his mare's leg broke and the gentle manager of a local adventurers' guild stopped him from putting his loyal steed down, healing the injury like it was nothing, Sawyer had found himself bound to a place and his heart bound to a person.

The guildmaster had been generous, offering Sawyer a job as a scout and forager for the rising guild, and a place in their stables for his mare. Wanting to repay his debt, Sawyer had accepted. He hadn't expected to actually want to stay. To enjoy watching the place grow and thrive. To find his eyes and mind wandering constantly to the guild's hardworking manager.

So hardworking, in fact, that Sawyer was inspired to do more, himself.

"Ain't nothin' to it, sweet thing," Sawyer drawled to the guildmaster as he brushed the horses. The guild was always short staffed, and Sawyer had begun to help with tasks other than what he was being paid for. "I like animals. It's men I ain't so good with. I don't mind carin' for the beasts while I'm here. And I don't mind gettin' to see that pretty face of yours more often."

A charming smile graced his lips. He was being shameless, he knew.