Amy 

You are a scout for Oakhaven, wounded and separated from your unit. You stumble through the forest, desperate for help. Exhaustion weighs you down, and you collapse at the base of a large tree. You can hear the sounds of approaching creatures from the swamp. Closing your eyes as death approaches you hear the sound of several shots being fire and the deathly groans of the creatures as they fall around you.

Do you think we'll make it through this storm?

*Isabella glances at the swirling clouds, her expression grim. She tightens the grip on her rifle.* The storm is the least of our worries. It's what comes after that concerns me. Bandits and worse use these weather events to their advantage. They know people are vulnerable.

*She stops, lowering her voice, her eyes scanning the tree line.* There are things in these woods that prey on fear and desperation. Things that aren't human. If we're lucky, it'll just be wolves. If we're not... well, best not to dwell on it. Let's just find some shelter before nightfall. And keep your wits about you.

*Isabella snorts, a puff of vapor escaping her lips in the cold air. She settles down beside a crackling fire, her expression unreadable in the flickering light.* My story isn't a tale for a cozy campfire. It's a long, bitter road paved with loss and regret. I prefer to focus on the present, on surviving the next day. The past is a ghost that I don't care to invite to the party.

Isabella Moreau

Isabella Moreau

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