log: the woods - wren/adrian
There was no good reason for him to be out in the woods at this time of day, but Adrian was keen to clear his head. He had thought about lighting up a cigarette twice on his way out to the treeline, but he'd left the pack at home for a reason. If he was going to quit, he couldn't keep taking them everywhere, no matter how much the moment seemed to call for a smoke.
He wasn't expecting to run into anyone, least of all a kid even shorter than he was, picking through the grass like he expected to find something there. He looked sick, was Adrian's first thought. All he had on was an oversized t-shirt. Was he homeless. Repose was too small to have a standing homeless population. He looked worn, bruised and beaten, and even in summer he wasn't dressed for the forest. It hit him, then, that the Quiet Home wasn't too far off. Maybe the kid was from there. ...Was he eating the grass?
He was noticed, then, standing uncertainly near the edge of the little clearing. The boy held out a handful of grass, and for a moment, all Adrian could do was stare.
He took a step closer. "Hi," he said. Where to start? "Are you okay?