Lupo

At the very front of the men marched a short stout man, wearing a large hat and a uniform decorated with elaborate badges and patches. He was a peculiar looking man. His face looked pressed down forcefully onto his body. His lips were pursed in what seemed to be a permanent frown. He had musty green eyes that expressed to me isolation and solitude, despite the immense welcoming he was receiving. He marched right past where my group and I stood, and I was able to get one up-close look at him. He did not look powerful. He was small and walked without a certain assertion that I was accustomed to seeing in authority figures. But his face, those envious, greedy eyes and intense focus startled me a little.