The sky burned with a sort of passionate nostalgia, as the winds echoed the stories of time. The scent of the furrowed trees carried by the gale passed through the man's nose, reminding him of a simpler time, long ago. The sun's warmth trailed across his oilskin duster, as the crunch of the leaves under foot could be heard by only those in the immediate area. The woods inspired a calm that nothing else could, where the troubles of man could be left behind, and stories were passed without fear of judgement. The man's hair was long and unkempt, and grey as the moon itself. His face looked like an aged oak, as scars spanned across the withered skin. His eyes gleamed blue in the setting sun, with his bristled beard giving off a look of wisdom. As he passed through the wooded area, he spotted the glistening flame of a campfire, and approached it with the crunches of leaves following him.<br/>He sat on a log outlining the fire, sighing as he looked through his jacket for a drink. Only now, in the twinkle of the fire could his badge be seen, a star labeled Sheriff, with a faded name below the label. Through the rusted metal, the name "Mordecai Roberts" could be made out, though the badge had lost it's luster through the years. Mordecai had not yet noticed there was another man at the campfire, and watched the glowing flame with a sort of longing, a permanent grimace showing on his wisened face.