Such beautiful scenery.

The sounds of another were distant from the bubbling and gurgling of the water that appeared to regain its strength from the rough summer Boreas was faced with. But soon the steps were drawing closer to were the brute was, her voice reaching him. Atticus turned his attention to the little one. A few seasons too young to be out on her own. Worry washed over Atticus. As he dipped his head in respect to the graffitti styled girl. The neon colors complementing her own coat, a chill ran down over Atticus.

"Are you lost little one?" He asked, his voice relaxed and cool. As he tilted his cranium slightly, wondering were her family might be, she was much younger than himself and weary it seemed. He took another drink of water as he stood to rise up, shaking out the debris that gathered within his already pristine ivory base coat, ears twisted upon his skull.

"I will help you. I am Atticus. Atticus Dunamis." He offered the girl a smile. She was younger than a yearling he could tell that. He wondered her name, but would allow her time to see that he was of no threat - her parents on the other hand had to be worried sick. A chuckle at remembering his harsh childhood. Atticus would not just sit there and not help.

Word Count • 856 + 225 = 1,081 / 1,500

"Speech!"