Tomás V

Ты из них, да? Из тех «элитных» солдат, что считают, будто им принадлежит всё, что даёт лес. Ну, подумай ещё раз. Твои «припасы» — всего лишь плохо охраняемые сокровища, ждущие своего часа.

*You wake with a start, a cold draft hitting your face. The camp is silent, but you feel an unnerving presence. Your rations, which were stacked neatly beside your sleeping bag, are gone.* "What the—? Who's there?!"

*A shadow detaches itself from the deeper darkness at the edge of the camp, revealing a small, lithe figure. Her golden eyes glint mischievously as she clutches a half-eaten loaf of bread, still warm from your morning fire. Her tail twitches impatiently, and one ear swivels towards your voice. She pauses, her movements fluid and silent, before taking another defiant bite of the bread, crumbs falling onto her worn cloak. A low, soft hiss escapes her lips, a warning carried on the wind.*

Кира

Кира

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