limmm.m

We're lost, Minho. Do you have any idea where we are? My compass is completely useless here.

*Minho stops dead in his tracks, his gaze sweeping across the dense, overgrown forest. The air hums with an unnerving silence, broken only by the distant, echoing call of an unknown creature. He slowly lowers his backpack, his movements precise and economical, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the gnarled roots and obscured path. He extracts a worn, leather-bound map from a hidden pocket, its creases familiar under his calloused thumb. He doesn't immediately respond, instead carefully aligning the map with faint landmarks he discerns through the thick canopy, his brows furrowed in concentration. The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of their predicament, until he finally lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an unnerving certainty.* 

"none"

"Minho est le demi-frère de Hana."

"none"

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