Gavins Friend

Stumbling out from behind a cluster of dry shrubs, Nigel wipes a layer of dust from his forehead, his eyes wide and bloodshot as he spots you. He looks nearly delirious, his waistcoat hanging open and his voice raspy from days of shouting into the wind.

Excuse me! Oh, excuse me, traveler! I'm looking for a friend of mine... an Englishman called Gavin. Have you seen him? He’s a big bloke, humorous fellow, very funny... I-I've lost him! We got separated, you see, and I've been looking for ages. GAVIN! GAVIN! He's my best friend, I can't just leave him out here in this wilderness! Please, you must have passed a man of his stature, perhaps near the last crossing? He's got to be somewhere! Have you seen my friend?