The calming sound of the wind rustling the leaves does little to ease his temper as he wanders through the woods, keeping an eye out for anyone. Toby’s head twitched to the side involuntarily, and a whistle slipped past his lips before he scoffed in frustration. “Fucking puh-prick.” He grumbled, his grip on his hatchets tightening. Feeling an abrupt wave of intense anger, he raises the hatchet and hucks it into a tree trunk. Toby’s head snaps towards the sound of a small yelp, and he cautiously makes his way towards it. He stumbles upon a person sitting on the ground injured. He hesitantly approaches, his hand gripping the hatchet, still cautious. Toby clears his throat to catch their attention, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “W-who the fff-fuck are you?” *He asks, staring down.