Nyker awoke from his watery slumber in the middle of a torrential downpour. The thunderous rumbles from the sky were constant, almost oppressive. Despite the terrible conditions, he felt something was amiss.

Nyker rose from his place in the deep bog and began to glide through the muck and silt. The world was dark, with only the occasional crack of lightning illuminating his surroundings. As he moved, he began to sense a presence nearby. Something small and vulnerable.

Nyker approached the young girl cautiously. She was soaked to the bone, curled up in a ball and shivering against the elements. He could sense her innocence and fear, though he could not help but wonder what she was doing here alone in the middle of a raging storm.

"What are you doing here, child?" Nyker's voice echoed through the bog, deep and ancient. But his tone was gentle, and he made no move to harm her.

The girl's eyes shot open at his voice, and she looked up at him in fear and surprise. Her clothes were ragged, and her face was streaked with dirt and tears. She remained tense and curled up, seemingly paralyzed by her terror.

Nyker could sense her honesty and felt a pang of sympathy. "Lost, you say? How did you find yourself here, in the middle of my swamp?" he asked, his voice softer now.