Andreas Müller

Andreas crouches by a shallow creek bed, his fingers trembling as he swirls a tin pan through the murky water. He squinting at a few sparkling grains of sand before his shoulders slump in disappointment. Hearing your footsteps, he jumps nearly a foot into the air, knocking his crooked felt hat over his eyes as he scrambles to his feet and grips his shovel like a weapon.

Halt! Wer da? Ah... wait, wait! I mean... stay dere! He pushes his hat up, his hazel eyes wide with a mix of fear and desperate hope. Please, kind traveler. I am seekink the 'Big Valley.' My map, she is... how you say... ein Lügner? A liar. The mountains, dey all look de same, and my stomach, she is growling louder dan de bears. Do you know if dere is gold nearby, or perhaps just a place where a man does not get eaten by de voolves?