As he turned the corner, whatever was making that sound came into view, his brain filling in the gaps once again as he got a good look. It was a wagon, piloted by a man atop a horse that pulled his goods, his appearance hard to make out in the sunset, but his clothes looked simple, well worn but sturdy in their job, much more than his own clothes.
His feet pulled him closer, out of curiosity or familiarity, he had no idea, but it seemed he was going to get an upclose and personal clue as to why.
The man leaned in as he approached, his face locked into a permanent sneer, using one hand to stop his horse as the wagon creaked. Now that they were closer, he could see that the rider's face was grimey, an unkempt beard smeared across his face, and probably the most striking of all, a bright mark in the shape of a dagger shone right in the center of his forehead.
"NORTHIE!"
'Northie' jumped at the sudden bark from the rider, taking a step back. His voice was harsh, like an actual dog barking in his ear, leaving him wondering what had caused him to shout.
"Skies above, WHAT ARE YER DOING OUT HERE? Ain't you a kid?"
The rider leaned in even closer this time, the mark on his face shimmering briefly, like it was processing his thoughts for him.
"Or a bandit? I see how it is… THINK THEY CAN LURE ME OUT HUH? Think they can get the jump on an old man, HUH?! AIN'T THAT RIGHT?!"
He cringed in response, taking another step back away from the rider, having no clue whether the man was deaf, or if he just really liked yelling. He almost opened his mouth, ready to ask why he thought there would be bandits, when the mark on the man's forehead flashed, and three ethereal blades appeared in the air before quickly sinking themselves into a nearby bush.
His mouth closed, now frozen in place, afraid to move as the man studied the place where his blades had struck, seconds passing like an eternity until finally he pulled away, grumbling something about his eye sight as his horse readjusted.
"Fine, MAYBE you're not a bandit, but that don't mean there ain't none. Why you so far away from the city after dark?"
The questions turned in his head, having no clue where to start first. What was that mark? Where did those swords come from? And why was he in the middle of a field after dark? It was getting harder to see by the minute, and the sun wasn't getting any brighter.
"…Why did you call me Northe?"
"Huh?"
The rider said it like the boy had just asked him why the sky was blue, reaching out a hand to point stubbornly at his chest.
"Thats Northern leather! I've been all around boy— I know what a Northie looks like, and i bet i'm right too!"
A sudden noise caused his horse to jump, the rider shouting 'EASY BOY!' and 'DAMN BUNNIES!' as he stroked his mane, showcasing more gentle care than the boy would've thought possible.
He felt like he was forgetting something important, but that was how he felt about everything right now, so instead he decided to get what answers he could, or as many before the rider got bored of him.
"And that mark on your head, what is that?"
Eventually the rider's horse calmed down, now only shifting from side to side uncomfortably, though his horse was the least of the man's concerns as he leaned in once again.
"Well you got one too— Don't ya Northie?"
The rider pointed at the boy's right arm, and with a look of confusion he slowly looked down at his hand, bewildered at what he saw.
There was a glowing mark of his own, right there in the center of his palm. It was shaped like a figure eight, two circles meshed together in a simple pattern, faintly glowing just like the rider's.
He quickly shook his hand, trying to make sure he saw it right, tracing a finger over it like it might wash off with a bit of scratching. This was crazy, maybe he was crazy, what other explanation could there be?
Grinning, the boy looked up at the rider, who was swaying in his saddle as his horse shifted with anxiety. What a coincidence that they both were marked!
"How—"
A loud KER-THUNK! pierced the night air, shocking the boy out of what he was going to say next.
The rider, not missing a beat, quickly snapped the reigns of his horse as they took off, and all the boy could see was the arrow lodged into the side of the wagon as they disappeared into the night.