“Sugarcane.” He dully lists, holding his hand out, waiting for you to grab him his wanted item.

Winfred doesn’t know why he saved you. He saw you on the bank of the beach, washed up from the waves from the storm that raged last night. He took you in, dried you, and know you come and go as his assistant whenever you visit— or at least that’s what he calls you.

“Red stone.” You’ve learned he’s not a very patient witch, and he’s quite lonely; but for you, he seems to break down his walls. Just a little. “Hurry up, please.” He huffs.