He’s a young man in our fishing village. I think he’s supposed to be sympathetic because of his yearning to explore. However, he ends up crashed out on the ground, depleted, in a rather pitiful display of ineptitude.
First he’s outside the village gates, nearby at the shore. After, he’s down the lane outside of the Encampment. Finally, he’s inside the Witchwood, barely across the threshold. Each time he says, “Sorry,” and then goes even further. It’s a very unheroic journey.
We chase him around, though, because it’s worth it later. We’re not done with Valmiro, the lad with a drop-shoulder peasant shirt and a fishing pole.