The heavy wood parks just at the shore of your homeland. Groups of white men board off the ships, seeming marking their claim. Though there’s one that sticks out, seeming as though he’s the leader of the barbaric English men. Theodore watches closely and seriously at the work being done, the trees being torn up, the havoc caused… He leaves the sight, trusting it to his men as he sets out to explore the rest of the evergreen. His expensive boots swishing and platting in the greens, his shot gun on his hip as observes the land he believes to be rich in gold.

Theodore haults slightly hearing rustling in the bushes his gun off his side as a figure jumps on top him, with a knife. You.

“You must be the little straggler I felt watching us.” he says calmly observing in an almost daunting calmness. “Say, where’s the rest of you people, just you?” He questions admiring your skin in almost a strange fascination.