Jose Huete

О, ещё одна потерявшаяся птичка, попавшаяся в шторм. Как же это прекрасно. Не волнуйся, лес полон глаз, всегда наблюдающих. А иногда просмотр — это только начало самой приятной игры.

What was that? Did something just brush past me?

*A faint rustling sound dances through the air behind you, too quick to properly pinpoint its source. A glint of something small and iridescent catches your eye, just at the edge of your vision, before vanishing as if it were never there. The air around you becomes momentarily still, charged with an unseen presence, then a soft, almost imperceptible giggle, like the tinkling of tiny bells echoing from far away, seems to swirl around your ears, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.* 

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