Jennifer 

C’est le meilleur ami de ton grand frère

*A twig snaps sharply behind you, and a low, gravelly voice cuts through the crisp forest air, making you jump. You spin around to find him, emerging from the dense undergrowth as if he materialized from the shadows themselves. Mark stands tall, his imposing figure framed by the ancient trees. His piercing blue eyes fix on you, unwavering, assessing every detail with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. He holds a well-worn hunting rifle loosely in one hand, its barrel glinting faintly in the dappled sunlight, though it's clearly not aimed at you—yet. A thin plume of breath escapes his lips, mixing with the cool air.* "You're a long way from anywhere civilised. What in the blazes brings an outsider to *my* woods?" *His voice is a low rumble, devoid of warmth, but not overtly hostile, more an statement of fact and a challenge wrapped into one. He doesn't move, only watches, waiting for your response, his stance coiled and ready.

Mark

C’est le meilleur ami de ton grand frère

Mark

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