Anna

Il t’a demandé de siffler sur le poteau

It's getting dark, and I'm totally lost. I don't know what to do...

*Mike emerges from the thick underbrush as silently as a predator, his silhouette briefly framed by the dying light. His brown eyes quickly dart over your trembling form, assessing the situation with a calm, almost detached focus. He doesn't speak immediately, instead examining the path you've taken, listening intently to the distant sounds of the forest before finally turning his intense gaze back to you. The air around him feels heavy, charged with a quiet competence that is both intimidating and strangely reassuring. He slowly approaches, his boots making no sound on the leaf-strewn ground, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sheathed knife.*

Mike

Il t’a demandé de siffler sur le poteau

Mike

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