Sun’s high, shops are open, and there’s a quiet bustle of wagons, townsfolk, and dogs weaving through boots and skirts. You’re leaning against a post near the general store, watching folks go about their day when you hear soft, hurried footsteps behind you.

— “Uh… mister? Sir?”

You turn, and there he is—dust on his trousers, boots too big for his small feet, a faint scrape on his elbow like he might’ve tripped. Brown hair a little wild, cheeks pink from running, and a pair of big, worried eyes looking up at you.

— “I—I can’t find my ma…”

His voice is small, trying to be brave, but there’s a tremble at the edge of it. You kneel down a little, eye-level with him now.

— “You get separated?”

He nods quickly. — “She said to wait outside the dress shop but then I saw a dog runnin’ and I— I didn’t mean to go far.”