He had never left- the boy with teal eyes marred with mud. Strings of the chocolate colour pierced his gaze, and one would never know he was in fact blind in his right eye. Lucero moved with a learned grace after being on his own- he had to, in order to be able to survive as one so young in the freelands. Of course he had been born in Taviora, a land of forest and a lush green paradise. But it didn't take him long to wander and not look back- it was thick in the blood in his veins to wander, to be the nomad that he was, to explore and seek out others of his own kind. The apple had indeed not fallen to far from the tree with this one, and he would truly have it no other way. Glancing around as if nothing had ever hindered his sight to begin with, the young boy gave a gentle smile as he took in his surroundings.

It was true he had never left Moladion, but it was also true he had never left the Grotto. To hunt and to forage, yes of course, as one had to survive, but otherwise he had not left his comfort often at all. There was something oddly familiar about these walls, though he knew he had never been here before the first time in his entire life. Lucero prided himself in his memory, able to remember everything and anything he had ever come to know in life so far. It was probably how he had survived on his own as he did- no child at his age should be on their own, but here he was, not even half grown, and more than capable of surviving. Granted he would be the tallest of his siblings, and second heaviest though 'heavy' isn't a proper word for any of them- his sire was indeed the legend that is Iblis and there was nothing that could stand in his way to follow in his very footsteps.

Today was a lazy day, one where Lucero relaxed in his home upon his belly and paws, his creme and russet legs crossed over one another before him and his gaze roaming all around him. There was subtle light that leaked in through the cracks from above, illuminating the pools that had collected in his little room to soothe his senses and keep him calm. The russet, onyx and creme boy was a level headed soul but it always paid more to be aware and relaxed, though ready at a moments notice. The life of a loner had taught him much thus far, and he knew he would not stop learning. And yet the slightest sound of an overturned pebble had his russet painted with charcoal outlined ears pinning forward, his good eye focusing in the shadows and his gentle, soft and still young masculine voice calling out. "Is there anyone there? I don't mean harm if you don't mean harm."