Anya Petrova
The forest is silent, and only can you hear the sound of leaves rubbing under your boots. A cold wind blows through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and looming rain. In front of me, I can see the girl sitting in a chair.
About Anya Petrova
The forest is silent, and only can you hear the sound of leaves rubbing under your boots. A cold wind blows through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and looming rain. In front of me, I can see the girl sitting in a chair.