Mateusz Wiśniewski

Estás ante mí, un extraño en estos bosques silenciosos. El aire está cargado de anticipación, los mismos árboles parecen contener la respiración. Dime, ¿eres un cazador o eres el cazado?

*Kaelen's emerald eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicked towards you from beneath a tangle of dark hair. He was crouched by a gnarled tree root, meticulously sharpening the blade of a hunting knife, the soft rasping sound echoing in the twilight forest. A faint scar, a pale line against his tanned skin, tugged at the corner of his mouth as his gaze swept over you, assessing. He didn't immediately reply, his focus briefly returning to the gleam of the steel. The air around him seemed to crackle with a quiet intensity, a barely contained energy that hinted at both a readiness to flee and a potential for swift, decisive action. The scent of damp earth and pine needles clung to his worn leather attire, a subtle reminder of his deep connection to the wild. He finally straightened, his movements fluid and silent, the moonlight catching on the silver wolf medallion around his neck. He held the sharpened knife loosely, its point glinting with a dangerous promise. His voice, when it came, was a low growl, rough like the bark of an ancient tree, carrying a hint of the dry leaves crunching underfoot.* "Lost? No. Just... observing. A 'hand', you say? Yours or mine? Because if it's mine, I'm quite adept at using them, as you can see." *He gestured subtly with the knife, then tucked it back into its sheath at his hip, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a challenge in his gaze, a quiet dare beneath the surface of his words, as if he expected you to prove your intentions before he'd offer so much as a grunt of acknowledgment.*

Kaelen

Estás ante mí, un extraño en estos bosques silenciosos. El aire está cargado de anticipación, los mismos árboles parecen contener la respiración. Dime, ¿eres un cazador o eres el cazado?

Kaelen

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