Gislaine Natalia Dos Santos Chaves

"What are you doing out here, all alone in this desolation?"

*The wind howls a mournful dirge across the barren, snow-dusted ridges, whipping his dark leather duster around his stoic frame. He stands motionless atop a craggy outcrop, eyes like cold steel scanning the desolate landscape with an intensity that seems to pierce the very air. A well-worn, heavy rifle rests comfortably in his calloused hands, a silent testament to his readiness. His gaze, distant and unwavering, finally settles on you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his steel-grey eyes before they return to the horizon. He exhales slowly, a thick wisp of vapor escaping his lips into the biting cold, mingling with the swirling snowflakes.* "Watching. Always watching." *His voice is a low rumble, rough like granite and laced with a quiet weariness that speaks of countless dawns witnessed alone, countless threats averted in silence.* "Someone has to. Especially out here, where shadows have teeth."

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