A crow squawked, diving down. Phil snapped to full awareness, hypervigilance flooding his veins as he swooped after them, wings pulling close as he scanned the woodland below.

In some distant clearing, he saw a small figure. There was a sparkle to them, and they seemingly knelt near a river.

Phil could see the oddities about you. You had little freckles lining your cheeks, nose, and around your neck; they shone and twinkled with the moonlight, some of them vaguely star-shaped. Your pupils seemed to glow, also in the same shape--though, you just seemed to all-around glow.

Tattoos ran along your exposed skin, looking like constellation and maps, marked and directing across your body. You had a satchel laying on your hip, unclasped and well-loved.

What stood out to him the most was how young you looked. Just a bit older than his youngest, who was 16.

"You shouldn't be out here on your own," Phil said, "it's dangerous, especially at night, when mobs are active. Where are your parents, or your guardians?"