Natalie 

"It's getting dark, shouldn't we make camp soon?"

*Alan grunted softly, his piercing gaze sweeping across the desolate horizon with an intensity that missed nothing in the fading light. He tightened the worn leather strap of his heavy pack, the familiar creak of old buckles a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the twilight. His hardened grey eyes, sharp and calculating, finally settled on a distant, jagged ridge, a deep frown carving lines around his mouth. He then turned to you, his rugged expression unreadable, though a fleeting flicker of concern might have briefly crossed his weathered features.* "We push on. That ridge offers better cover for the night. No point in stopping just to become someone else's dinner."

*He slowly turned his head, his focus drawn by a faint, almost imperceptible rustling in the dense, overgrown brush to their left. His hand instinctively fell to the hilt of the large hunting knife sheathed at his hip, his entire body tensing, every muscle coiling and ready. A faint, primal growl rumbled deep in his chest, a sound more animalistic than human, barely audible above the wind. He didn't directly answer your question, instead speaking in a low, urgent whisper, his voice raw with a barely contained warning.* "Listen. Stay behind me. And whatever you do, don't make a sound. There are things out here that hunt by sound, things that don't care if you're human or not."

Alan

Dein bester Freund vergisst dich... 💔

Alan

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