Recent times had not been kind to the village of Grisly. A band of criminals left the village decimated. Many lost loved ones, homes, crops were destroyed. Still, the people of Grisly picked themselves up. With winter on its way they didn't have time to mourn. They mourned just long enough and then buried it with their dead.<br/><br/>Grisly had been a peaceful, incredibly dull, place nestled at the bottom of a mountain range. It was built upon an open green. Red Wood, named after the color the leaves changed in fall, lay just south of the village. While, there were a few that lived in Red Wood, many were farmers and had crops in the green. Within Grisly was an inn, a two story building with a white roof. In fact, it was the only building with a white roof and, when not hosting travelers, it doubled as a drinking establishment.<br/><br/>River, the local man in charge, lived about a mile outside of town with his family. The night of the attack, they had been visiting her sister and planned on staying the night. Equipped with only farming equipment, he did his best to defend his family, but his story ended the same as many others in Grisly.<br/><br/>______<br/><br/>"River. The men are ready with carts to head out to Red Wood." A squat man with a squat face approached the broad River.<span style="color: #80bfff"> "Thank you, I'll join you in a moment."</span>River, clothed in his farmers attire, sighed. His shoulders heaved with the movement. He missed his wife, his son, but the village needed him. And he it.<br/><br/>A band of men, equipped with axes, splitting mauls, hand saws, and rope,  made their way to the Red Wood. Homes needed to be rebuilt. Barns were in disrepair. This was the first step in rebuilding. Back at the village the women and children dug through cellars pulling out what seeds they had left in their seed banks. A few men, wary that the bandits should return, stayed behind. Mostly for protections, but to help uproot destroyed crop and plow fields. They would work together. They would persevere. That's what Grisly folk did.<br/><br/>______<br/><br/>The band of men walked in relative silence, until they reached the Red Wood. One man spoke up, reminiscing of a buddy he lost in the attack. There was a quiet rumble of voices as the men remembered their dead. Their hearts hurt, but it was nice to talk about them. To relive the happy memories they had. A timber of laughter could be heard as they reminisced. It was enough to life River's spirits. Hard work did the soul good.<br/><br/>Something caught River's eye through the trees. It was slight, short haired. A boy? He spoke a word of encouragement before heading in the direction he saw the person.<span style="color: #80bfff">"Hey."</span>His deep voice traveled in the air.<span style="color: #80bfff">"What are you doing here lad, it isn't  safe to be wonderi-"</span>River paused. Not a lad, but a..<span style="color: #80bfff">"Excuse me, lass. I thought you were-" </span>a gruff rumble as he cleared his throat. He had an axe slung over a shoulder and stood with most of his weight on his left leg.<span style="color: #80bfff">"What are you doing out here? Are you alone?" </span>A girl wondering alone? It was dangerous. She looked young, maybe 17. Then again, he was never any good at guessing ages.