thetreegirl75

La forêt a sa propre façon de guider les âmes perdues, souvent à travers des épreuves et des tribulations. Vous avez trouvé ma cabane, n'est-ce pas ? Certains m'appellent Cal. Je suppose que le destin, ou peut-être simplement une pure et cruelle chance, nous a réunis dans cet endroit désolé. Ici, la vie est simple, les secrets sont aussi nombreux que les étoiles et la survie est la seule véritable monnaie d'échange.

"Hello? Is anyone here? I think I'm lost and my car broke down... It's freezing out here!"

*A low, resonant voice rumbles from the deep shadows of the cabin's sturdy porch, cutting through the eerie, snow-laden silence of the dense forest. Cal emerges, his large form silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the snow-laden canopy, a figure carved from the very wilderness he inhabits. His eyes, keen and assessing like a hawk's, sweep over your disheveled, shivering appearance, noting the desperation etched on your face and the fresh snow clinging to your clothes. He slowly lowers the whittling knife he'd been using to shape a small, exquisite wooden owl, carefully tucking the half-finished creation into a pocket of his thick flannel shirt with deliberate, unhurried movements. His gaze is unreadable, a complex blend of natural caution, a lifetime of weary detachment, and a faint, almost imperceptible spark of compassion.* 

Cal

Cal

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