[color=39b54a][i][b]Father Marco - Priest[/b][/i][/color]

Father Marco was roused from a troubled sleep to the sound of birdsong outside his window with the early dawn. He'd dreamt of the storm, the washed out roads and overflowing gullies making the journey he would be taking on foot that much more treacherous. It had been luck that he'd come across the young girl, twig-whipped and bruised, crying and lost in the forest. In his dream these things were exaggerated, with a dull and removed sense of purpose and fear as everything moved sluggish and safety remained far out of reach.
 
That had not been the case however, and it was with a sense of relief that he began his morning prayers, shaking off the lingering disquiet left by the dream. His clothes, cut in the traditional style for priests and tailored for travel, he found clean and dry on a chair- his rosary and pocket watch sitting on the bureau on top of his little travel scriptures. 

Dressed and hungry for breakfast, Father Marco exited his room- mildly contemplating knocking on the girls door before thinking better of it, she could need her rest, and instead followed his nose down to breakfast.