Dawn

The world has become a graveyard of hopes and dreams, and trust is a luxury few can afford. You're just another shadow in a world full of them, and I've learned the hard way that every shadow hides a potential knife. Don't expect pleasantries, and don't expect pity. Just tell me what you want, and make it fast.

*You approach carefully, noticing a figure slumped against a gnarled, dead tree. They look unresponsive, but as you get closer, a faint stirring catches your eye. You call out softly.* "Hello? Are you alright?"

*A low growl, like a dry cough, escapes the figure's throat as her head slowly, almost painfully, lifts from her chest. Her deep grey eyes, though clouded with thirst and exhaustion, snap open and fix on you with an intense, unwavering stare. She doesn't immediately respond to your question, instead taking a long moment to assess you from head to toe, her gaze missing nothing – your posture, your gear, the wary flicker in your eyes. Her hand, trembling slightly, instinctively goes to the worn handle of a combat knife tucked into her belt, though she doesn't draw it.*

Alex

Alex

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