Wicker is a forest hunter, and the profession of forest hunter is not something to be surprised in itself, although everyone knows about it for the first time they think - they are hunters who live in the forest, and they may have been like this for generations, and even if they are not, no one knows which territory they were once sheltered in. Pen, fun, and www.biquge.info

The forest is more dangerous than expected, and these hunters live around it - unlike ordinary hunters, they do not sell their game to support their homes in a particular village.

No one knows what they live in the forest for, and they have always lived in the forest.

In the eyes of those who enjoy life, these forest hunters are some madmen.

Bang!

Early that morning, Wicker walked to his house—the wooden hut in the Aesop Forest, where he had left the game he had on his shoulder, a not-so-small deer—and no one knew where he had come from, but it was evident from the sweaty muscles of his exposed arms that he was quite relaxed.

Then he heard something strange - he was used to the sounds around him, which seemed unusual because he had never heard them before, but he quickly realized that they were his "guests".

Thinking of the guest, though it was a nobleman - Wicker had no feelings, the hunters of the woods were not afraid of any nobles, they were not tenants of any territory, they did not need to live on the land given by the lord, and therefore they did not worry about which count they had frightened yesterday and which duke they had bothered today.

Of course, they don't care that there is a noble lady running around in the forest and almost losing her life.

I hope that the noble lady will go home as soon as possible, but it is just too much trouble.

Wicker walked towards the hut, and the hound that followed him ran back to his side - the hound wrapped in black and white fur made people feel a little small, and if you didn't look closely, you would think that it was a dog raised by some nobles, and it was hard to imagine that a forest hunter with rich experience in hunting in the forest would carry such a hound...... Or pets.

"You didn't find out where the potion came from. The hound rubbed eagerly at his feet, but its tail drooped and barked, and Wicker knew what it was thinking, "All right." ”

"You're back!" said Wicker, who was tall and small in the cabin, and soon came to the back of the house, where the noble lady who made a noise had of course spotted him and greeted him.

The aristocratic girl who called herself Fitney Freton had tied up her blonde hair, and after a few days, the wound on her arm had healed quickly from the herbs she had blended, and today she had run to the back of the house and picked up the iron sword and practiced it towards the trees.

Wicker didn't know much swordsmanship, but felt that Fitney's sword was a mess, and it was going to ruin a tree.

"Do you want your sword lessons not to be left behind?" Wicker said.

"No," said Fitney, "I hope that the next time I swing my sword, I will be less ridiculed by you. ”

After a few days, Fettnay had a rough idea of how the hunter of the woods usually spoke—he rarely spoke, but he had a venomous tongue, and each time he was able to criticize himself to the fullest.

For the first time, Fitney was glad that she had been taught by Cathy for years, for this not-too-bliose mockery was much better for her than Cathy's prickly scolding—and therefore she was not afraid.

"If you feel like you have enough energy, keep your promise early. "Wicker's poisonous tongue has only said it once, and he will not compete with Fitney.

Fitney nodded: "Okay, I think I can leave right now to find the truth about the wild boar's madness or something...... But what do we need to bring? water, food, and some props......? Or some weapons or something. ”

The more Fitney spoke, the more he felt that he was lacking in confidence.

Since the conversation with Hermes that night broke up, although he did not want to admit Hermes's words, he tried his best to change his attitude towards people, at least not to look at others with the eyes of an aristocracy.

But then she felt what it was called difficult--she had been the eldest lady of the Wizdem family since she came into this world, and had never had much contact with the life of a non-nobleman, and twelve years had passed, and how she used to talk to people had become less and less invisible.

And at this time, I am facing a profession that is still very new to me.

"You don't need to learn these things. Wicker said.

Fitney was frustrated, thinking that Wickel was a dead brain—but he wasn't a man to give up easily: "But I don't want to trouble you—you don't want me to cause trouble, do you?"

Wicker thought for a while, seemed to affirm this statement, and said: "Convenience is the main thing, everything is the same, after all, there is a possibility of enemy ...... everywhere"

Fitney, paradoxically rejoicing at Wickl's brain, listened so carefully that she wanted to write them down—she couldn't find a pen or paper, of course, so she could only think so.

Eventually, Fettnay picked up the equipment that was complicated for her, and she changed into a leather armor that was a little wide for herself—even if it was the smallest set Wicker had found, and by the way gave her two extra daggers, which were very easy to reach beside her—which made her feel like a child playing a game, not serious at all.

Wickel had already stepped into the forest before Fitney was still emotional—she had to trot to catch up with him.

"Is this your dog?" said Fitney, who followed Wickel and, of course, the hound—Fitney was a little surprised to see the hound.

It was a wonder why a hunter of such stature as Wicker would carry a very "small" looking hound.

"I don't need a hound, it won't leave, I can't help it. Wicker said.

"Then it has a lot of perseverance," Fitney praised the hound, "but it's actually quite beautiful, and if you carefully sort out your hair or something, it will definitely be liked by many people." ”

Wicker retorted: "But if it chooses to stay here, it should not serve the hearts of the nobles." ”

Fitnair couldn't help but feel angry when she heard that Wickel was talking about the nobles again, and she suspected that the hunter in the woods was hinting that she should no longer have the idea of nobles - but Wickl's expression did not change, and she could not guess what he was thinking from his face.

As soon as Fitney did not deliberately provoke the topic, Wicker would not take the initiative to speak, so without Fitney speaking, Wicker did not speak again, he blindly walked forward - which made Wittnay very difficult to follow.

But Fitney didn't dare to say anything.

It wasn't that she hadn't walked for a long time, but it was a long time ago, and she was only a twelve-year-old girl at this time, and she soon felt dizzy after coming down like this.

Luckily, Wicker stopped, and they walked past a tree, and in the clearing in front of them lay the carcass of a wild boar.

The beagle barked a few times with some uneasiness, but Wicker ignored it, walked over to the boar, crouched down and examined the corpse carefully—Fitney leaned over the discomfort and asked, "Do you see anything?"

"It's a mother, and the person who killed it was so powerful that they got rid of it before it could react. Wicker glanced at her, and even though Fitney didn't hold the ground, his expression showed some discomfort, but he miraculously did not sarcastically say to her.

Fitnair looked over and saw that the wound was not large, but according to Wickel it should have been deep.

"Did the hunters kill it? what kind of weapon is this, spear?" asked Fitney.

"Perhaps. Wicker said, and then no longer looking at the boar's carcass, but looked elsewhere, as if searching for something, lowered his body, and rummaged through the grass in the clearing.

"What are you looking for?" asked Fitney again.

Wickel didn't speak, just went back and forth until Fitnair watched her search the whole clearing for once—he frowned slightly.

Fitney had seen this expression on the face of the Duke of Wizdem, when the Wizdem family had encountered a very troublesome accusation, or a series of complaints, and the Duke of Wizdem, who had come to believe in himself, was disturbed and showed such an expression.

"Isn't this the first time?" Fitnair tried to decipher the expression, "you're looking for ...... Footprints?"

Although I am confident in myself, I am also distressed that this experience is a little useless.

Wickel didn't speak, and Fitney knew he had guessed right as he looked at his slightly surprised expression.

"Maybe it's magic, I think I can do something about it. Fitney said, and the familiar lines on his hands behind his back reappeared, this time returning to its original appearance.

She opened the Eye of Penetration, everything in front of her changed, the flow of magic was clearly visible, the magic in the forest was not much stronger than the palace, but there were traces of convergence on the boar.

To Fitney's surprise, she could still see the magic clearly flowing over the boar's carcass and then in a certain direction - though she didn't know what it meant, it was clearly pointing in some direction.

"Maybe there's some evidence over there. Fitney pressed his surprise and pointed to the other side towards Wicker.

Surprisingly, however, Wicker looked at the other side and was silent for a while, then went in the opposite direction: "Forget it over there." ”

"What are you talking about, are you going to give up this opportunity?" Fitney looked at him in surprise, and was even more anxious that he had lost this opportunity to perform.

Wickel didn't waver at all: "You don't need to go over there. ”

Then he walked in the opposite direction without looking back.