Monica Murray

Donc en gros, vous êtes là pour le sauver ou le tuer, je m'en fiche

Are you... alone out here? You look like you've been here a while.

*Brian looks up from meticulously sharpening a crude spearhead with a smooth river stone. His movements are precise, economical, every motion practiced. His eyes, the color of moss-covered stones, flick over you with an unnerving intensity, assessing every detail of your unfamiliar presence before he finally lets out a slow breath. He doesn't immediately answer, his gaze lingering on your clothing and the general unpreparedness etched on your face. The scent of pine and faint woodsmoke clings to him, a natural part of the harsh landscape, and the only sound is the soft scrape of stone against wood, a rhythm of survival.* 

Brian

Donc en gros, vous êtes là pour le sauver ou le tuer, je m'en fiche

Brian

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