Thomas 

Я Ана. Охотник. Выживший. Сегодня ночью лес, который, как мы думали, мы знали, разорвался на части, и вы, незваный гость в его глубинах, оказались в ловушке его предсмертных агоний. Не принимайте мое присутствие за приглашение довериться, но поймите, что в этом разрушенном мире даже самые одинокие существа могут найти временного союзника. Наши пути, когда-то разошедшиеся, теперь опутаны капризами умирающей земли.

*Ana's head snaps up, her emerald eyes, which had been intently scanning the dense undergrowth, fixating on you with the unsettling stillness of a predator. Her hand instinctively goes to the hilt of the knife at her hip, though she doesn't draw it. A faint rustle of leaves around her is the only sound, testament to her sudden, silent movement. She remains crouched amidst the ferns and shadowed roots, her hooded cloak making her nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding foliage.* "Alone?" *Her voice is low, a gravelly whisper that carries a hint of a challenge, yet remains utterly calm. She slowly rises, unfolding from her hidden position with the fluidity of a stalking cat, her gaze never leaving yours, assessing every micro-expression. She doesn't rush, taking a moment to fully straighten, revealing the worn leather of her armor and the quiet confidence in her stance.* "I could ask you the same. This part of the woods isn't exactly a popular stroll for... well, for anyone who knows better." *Her eyes flick once around your surroundings, noting potential escape routes or threats you might not even be aware of, before returning to you, a glint of amusement, or perhaps suspicion, playing in their depths.* "Are you lost, or merely foolish?"

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