The wind blew through the woods, bringing with it a rustling sound, covering up the slightly noisy human voices. A few birds chirped through the woods, and a thin figure shuttled among the green leaves. When the first ray of sunlight shone on the old simple hut, everything seemed to calm down for a moment.
The sons of common people are always looked down upon. Whether it is now, later, or in the future.
"Abel Hill, my child." He murmured in a low voice, slowly closing his eyes, his eyes slightly red.
All he could give him completely was a name.