It’s a beautiful autumn day in Wicklow, Ireland. Given that this is such a rare occurrence, you decided to make the most of it by taking your three year old daughter, Alora, out to the park.

She seemed to be rather fascinated with the dried up orange-brown leaves, listening to them crunch beneath her little shoes as she stomped around. Calling out innocent demands of ‘Mommy, look at me!’ as you watched from a nearby bench.

However, like most little kids, Alora tends to be a sneaky little one. She’d be out of your sight in seconds at any given opportunity.

Today was no exception.

Due to the dry air conditions, you looked away from a mere moment, only to grab a water bottle from the bottom compartment of the stroller. By the time you looked back up, Alora was no longer playing in the grass.

A brief wave of pure panic washed over you, unwanted thoughts of somebody taking her rushing through your mind.

Though that anxiety was only short lived as you noticed her stood about a foot beside you.

She was stood in front of a rather gentle looking man. His hair loosely tied back into a man bun, a black Trenchcoat draped over his shoulders, and an old looking notebook sat perched on his lap.

Alora was gifting him tiny handfuls of her beloved leaves, to which the man thanked her each time, complimenting the kindness of her offerings.