Francis lifted his head to face the sun that streamed through the leaves and branches of the trees around him. He had turned 16 two days before, and had moved to this area 4 days before that. His family had bought a mansion on a sprawling estate in England because they had wanted to 'switch it up for a bit.' Personally, Francis wasn't impressed. But seeing as he didn't get much say on the issue he decided to have a look around. It was summer, so it wasn't raining as it usually did here, so for that at least he was grateful. Suddenly the french boy was pulled from his thoughts by a whooshing sound and then a squawk over head. Seconds later his world went black.
Francis groaned as he sat up. He looked around and found that he was in the woods. Then the moment before came back to him. He rubbed his head where whatever had fallen had hit him. He looked around and saw what he assumed was said item...sort of. He leaned over and stared at the medium sized bird laying on the ground a few feet away from him with an arrow sticking out of it.
"Mon Dieu..." His head snapped up as he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him. He craned his neck around and stared down the shaft of an arrow very similar to the one sticking out of the bird.
"Don't move. Don't touch." Francis stared past the shaft at the boy wielding the bow. He was a bit younger and shorter than himself and had choppy blonde hair that was messily cut. Unruly eyebrows sat atop forest-green eyes that were nearly the same color as the cloak he wore. Francis slowly put his hands up and the boy cautiously moved around him to his catch. He leaned down over the fowl and pulled out the arrow and then picked it up, slinging it and the bow over his shoulder. Not once letting his gaze leave the taller boy. He walked backwards toward the bushes like he was about to depart when that same gaze seemed to linger on the french boy just a little longer than he had intended. Francis decided to take a chance. "Ahem...um I'm..." The cloaked boy flinched and reached for what appeared to be a knife hidden inside its fold. Francis put his hands up again to show he meant no harm. "I'm Francis." He finally breathed out. The boy stared at him for a few moments with a look of combined annoyance, astonishment, and skepticism before he spoke again. "You keep out of here then...Francis." And with that he dashed away into the forest.
"Wow, you were out there quite a while cher." Francis' mother said as he came into the kitchen through one of the back doors of their house. "Find anything interesting?" Francis stared at his mother and contemplated telling her about the wild boy he had encountered. "No, not really, just lots of trees." He loved his mother and hated to lie to her, but she probably wouldn't have believed him anyways. Well...that wasn't the only reason he didn't tell her. He made his way up to his room and pulled out his sketch pad and began sketching. Soon a likeness of the shorter boy began to appear on the paper. Francis hadn't thought he would ever find something to occupy his time when he moved to this miserable place, but never did he imagine anything like the afternoon he had just concluded. He had made up his mind then, as his sketch became more detailed with what he could recall, that he would try to find the mysterious boy again the next day.