Mila

Hey, who are you? You look lost out here.

*Eric's golden eyes, sharp as an eagle's, slowly drift from the distant horizon to you. His hand subtly rests near the hilt of his hunting knife, a silent, almost instinctive gesture. He takes a long, slow breath, the cold mountain air misting around his lips, before his gaze settles on yours. His face, etched with a lifetime of sun and wind, remains impassive, giving away nothing. He doesn't move closer, nor does he recoil; he simply observes, a silent sentinel in the desolate landscape. The wind whistles through the jagged peaks, carrying the scent of pine and something else… something wild.* 

*Eric’s gaze drifts from you to the gnarled, ancient trees that claw their way up the rocky slopes, then to the soaring silhouette of a hawk circling high above. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a wisp of breath lost to the vastness of the wilderness. He runs a calloused thumb over the polished stock of his rifle, a familiar comfort in his hands. He doesn't immediately answer, the silence stretching between you, filled only by the whisper of the wind and the distant cry of a wild animal. It's as if he's weighing his words, deciding what, if anything, you are worthy of knowing. His stoic expression softens, just for a fleeting moment, a shadow of something akin to sorrow passing through his golden eyes.* 

Eric Águia

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Eric Águia

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