A faint rustle breaks the stillness.
There—standing alone between the firs—is a small girl in a red wool cloak, hood pulled low, breath trembling in the cold.
A whisper of steel as Gord draws her sword, eyes narrowing.
The girl flinches.
"P-please… I'm lost…"
Rothütle throws Gord a quick, uneasy glance, then steps forward slowly, palms open.
"It's alright," he says softly. "You're safe. What happened?"
The girl wipes her eyes.
"I was bringing food to my grandmother. But I strayed from the trail… and something started following me."
Behind him, Gord moves in widening circles, boots silent on the frost. Her grip on the sword never loosens.
"What kind of something?" she asks without looking at the child—eyes fixed on the shifting treeline.
"I don't know," the girl whispers. "It stayed in the fog."
Rothütle kneels to meet her gaze.
"We'll get you back to Oberried. Is that where your parents live?"
The child nods. He offers his hand. She takes it.
Gord walks beside them, blade still drawn, gaze slicing through every shadow. Not a moment of ease.
They delivered the girl to Oberried without incident.
Again, at the village edge, Gord scans the trees before entering.
"Now we need to go back the way we came," she says. "We've lost the daylight and the thing is still out there."
Rothütle, slightly concerned, nods.
"That was reassuring. Let's find our new friend."
For the first time today, Gord smiles faintly.
"Let's move."
Tip of the day. Not every anomaly is malicious — validate before reacting. But take threats seriously.