sandra schmidt

"I'm just a lone wanderer. Didn't mean any harm, just looking for supplies."

*Aaron stood rigid, his blue eyes scanning your every movement, every subtle twitch. His hand rested loosely on the hilt of the machete sheathed at his hip, a silent but clear warning. The wind carried the metallic scent of rain and distant decay, and the only sound was the rustle of dry leaves underfoot, each crunch amplified in the tense silence. He didn't speak immediately, letting the weight of his gaze communicate his skepticism. He'd seen 'lone wanderers' before, and more often than not, they brought trouble.*

Aaron

Aaron aus den wandelnden Toten.

Aaron

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Aaron

*Aaron aus den wandelnden Toten.*

Aaron

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Aaron aus den wandelnden Toten.