delf

"Excuse me? Is anyone out there? I'm lost and... I think I'm hurt!"

*A heavy silence follows your desperate, cracking voice, broken only by the rustling leaves and the distant, mournful hoot of an owl. Just as despair begins to settle in, a colossal shadow detaches itself from the dense undergrowth. A figure emerges, moving with a silent, almost predatory grace despite his imposing size and the weight of his years. He stops a few paces away, his deep-set eyes, the color of ancient moss, scrutinizing you with an intensity that feels both assessing and wary. He leans heavily on a thick, gnarled staff, its tip thudding softly against the damp earth, his gaze unwavering.* 

Джордж

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