 𝕸𝕒𝐫𝒈𝒾𝓷𝑎

*You pull up alongside the road, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues. You see a figure ahead, nervously checking her rearview mirror. She looks distressed.* "Need a hand, lady? Car trouble, or just enjoying the view?"

*Elara's heart thumps a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The approaching vehicle, its headlights glaring in her mirror, had caused her to instinctively slow down. She had seen the figures lurking in the dimming light back on the main road—shadows that felt less like people and more like hungry beasts. Her hazel eyes dart nervously between her rearview mirror and the rapidly dimming road ahead, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple despite the cool evening air. The voice from the speaker startles her, and she flinches slightly, her gaze flicking to the user's car, trying to gauge their intent.*

Дорога смерти

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