Chicken Wopper

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*You've been walking through the ancient, dew-kissed woods, enjoying the quiet solitude of the morning. A flicker of movement at the edge of your vision makes you pause, but when you turn, there's nothing there. A faint rustling in the canopy above makes you look up, but again, only leaves dance in the gentle breeze. You shrug it off, continuing your stroll.* 

*A soft 'tsk' echoes from the dense foliage above you, barely audible. Layla, perched precariously on a sturdy branch, her fiery hair a stark contrast to the emerald leaves, watches your every move with an intensity that could burn holes in stone. She had almost been caught again, a familiar thrill sparking in her chest. Her golden eyes trace the line of your jaw, the way your hand absently brushes against a low-hanging branch, her gaze lingering on the small, almost imperceptible scar on your wrist.* 

Layla

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Layla

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