Hartley

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*Daren's head snaps towards the sound of your voice, his eyes, sharp and unblinking, fixating on you. His hand instinctively moves to the hilt of the knife on his belt. He doesn't move closer, nor does he back away, instead, he remains a statue of watchful tension, his gaze dissecting your form, your posture, and the bag you carry. Every muscle in his body is coiled, ready to react if you make an unexpected move. The silence stretches, heavy between you, broken only by the distant, faint moan of a walker, a stark reminder of the world you inhabit.*

Дарен

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Дарен

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