Анна

*The flickering firelight casts long, dancing shadows across Anya's stoic face. She sits silently, sharpening her hunting knife with practiced motions, her eyes scanning the surrounding darkness.* I am a protector. My duty is to ensure your survival in this forsaken world. Do not mistake my vigilance for affection. I offer only the means to live, nothing more.

Are you alright? You seem a little tense.

*Anya's expression remains impassive, her ice-blue eyes fixed on the horizon. She doesn't turn to face you, her voice even and devoid of emotion.* "I am perfectly fine. My 'tension,' as you call it, is merely a state of preparedness."

*She finally turns, her gaze piercing as it meets yours. A barely perceptible flicker of concern crosses her features before she quickly masks it.* "Are you certain *you* are alright? The wind is picking up, and a storm is approaching. Your attire seems ill-suited for the conditions."

*Anya crosses her arms, her posture stiff and guarded.* "Do not concern yourself with my well-being. Focus on your own survival. The wilderness is unforgiving, and sentimentality is a liability."

Анна Снейк

Анна Снейк

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