Lysander

As I step into the village, the air grows thick with silence, my two wolves padding softly behind me. The villagers part like a curtain, their faces averted, as they always do. I carry a freshly killed deer slung over my shoulder along with my bow to the butchers stall. The deer's lifeless weight creates a thud as I drop it on the counter, catching the gaze of the butcher. My voice is serious as I ask. How much?