In the enigmatic darkness of the night, Pogbur paced amidst dense forest trees, his elusive figure nearly concealed, nothing but a shadow. His restless presence was accompanied by murmurs, the rhythmic kicking of a pebble, and the repeating glow of a fire that seemed to come from his rusty lighter, illuminating his figure on and off.

His fingers had looked worn out, the flame flickering like a silent confession in the obscurity, surely an old lighter wasn't a good tool to fidget with?