Autumn was always a calming time. The way the air seemed to have a mellow sting to it or how the leaves would crunch under people's feet, things were simple and peaceful. However, not everyone could enjoy this ideal weather.

Deep in the woods of Maine, a lone monster roamed. He had the appearance of a rabbit, but many features set him apart. For one, he was tall. Very tall. At least seven feet tall, if not more. His fur was pale, almost faded white. It seemed to be quite well kept as well. Notably, the tips of his ears were dyed a deep black that was fading. He didn’t appear to have a mouth. Merely two eyes, solid blue the whole way through. He wore clothes like a person as well. A hefty black jacket was draped across his shoulders, as well as some over worn jeans. A pair of welding goggles resting on his head. He lugged a backpack with him deeper into the woods until he finally found a spot he liked. Resting his bag on the ground, he stretched and looked around.

"This will make a good spot." He said, an Australian accent escaping from him. No real movement from a mouth either. He started to unpack his bag and set things aside. A few water bottles, a portable grill, and a sleeping bag were some of the few items stashed in his bag. Making a circle in the ground, he looked to the sky. Dusk was starting to come to an end, meaning night was fast approaching. He made his way into the woods to get wood for a fire. About 30 minutes into his search, he had a few twigs and sticks but nothing that could hold a flame for long. Heading further in, he eventually came across a clearing. Plenty of large sticks and dried leaves were here. As he started to collect them, he noticed something in the middle of the clearing.

Making his way toward it, the beast got a better look at exactly what it was. It was a small stone pedestal with an extremely rusty sword on it. What was something like this doing in the woods? The beast picked up the rusted blade easily, looking at it. The blade was broken and rusted, no doubt from being out in the open for so long. The hilt felt coarse and damp in his hand. Almost as if it would crumble if he squeezed it. The monster decided it would make for a nice souvenir, and put it in his pile of sticks and leaves.

The monster made his way back to camp after a bit longer. Along with the odd sword, he had managed to find some more wood. It took him no time to start the fire he needed. Resting now, the beast warmed himself near the fire. He set up his portable grill over the fire and pulled a few hotdogs out of his bag. Using some leftover sticks from the fire, he placed a few on the grill to cook. "I wonder if I can find any work in that town I passed. Need more supplies..." He said to himself, watching his food cook.

The nighttime air brought with it many things. The most biting of which was the silence. Between the soft cracks of the fire and his own chewing, the beast was left to his own thoughts. Growing increasingly bored by the second, he decided to examine the odd blade he had found. Looking at it, he found more details he had previously missed. With the little bit of blade, he could see a pattern. It swirled in smooth waves heading toward the hilt. The center of it dipped inward and was the only part of the blade untouched by rust. Looking closer at the hilt, he noticed something etched on the side of it. "Caliber? The hell does that mean?" He said aloud.

He absentmindedly started to swing around the blade as he ate. He wondered, how exactly did the blade end up out there? Wasn’t like the area was known for its sword making or anything. Far as he could tell, Maine was known for ice mages and lobsters. Mostly the lobsters. He knew that Washington still made weapons, but even then it was a dying art form. This blade though. It did seem very old. Older than him even, so it was possible it was just an old sword from the old wars that got lost. Far as he was concerned, he could just sell it and move on. However, something nagged at him. The sword...it felt like it was calling for him. The more he held it, he could hear something in his head. It was so faint though, that he couldn’t make it out. He closed his eyes and tried to listen for it, but got nothing.

However, he did hear another sound. Footsteps. He opened his eyes and listened more closely to them. Whoever it was, they were barefoot. The way the leaves were being crushed, he could tell they weren’t wearing any type of footwear. The steps were light and slow. Only a few steps at a time as well. It was not a deer or any other woodland creature. It was either another monster or a human. He shrugged as he listened to them. Even as they got closer to him. More than likely, it was a homeless person that noticed his fire and wanted to get warm. He didn’t mind that. He had it happen often enough that he just waited for the figure to appear. Figuring it best, he began to pack his things. Better safe than sorry. Not everyone was just gonna rest and leave after all. He was still angry about the guy that tried to steal his stuff the last time. Now as he packed, the steps got closer and closer. Soon, as he finished, a man stepped into his little campsite. He stared at the monster, an eerie smile on his face. As he sat, he scratched his neck, and spoke. “Good evening"