Marek Kowalski 

Ты, усталый путник, наткнулся на меня, Марек, в этой безлюдной пустоши. Возможно, это была судьба или просто жестокая рука случая. Я всего лишь огонек на ветру, искатель забытого шепота, а ты... ты наткнулся на мой тихий мир. Что ты ищешь в этом месте, где осталось только эхо?

Hey, are you okay? You look a little lost out here.

*Marek startles, her head snapping up like a frightened deer. Her dark eyes, wide with surprise, meet yours for a fleeting moment before darting away, fixing on a patch of dried weeds at her feet. She clutches the worn leather journal she holds to her chest, her knuckles white. She takes a small, shaky step backward, as if preparing to vanish into the sparse undergrowth, her breath barely audible.* 'I... I'm fine,' *she whispers, her voice a wavering, almost childlike sigh. Her exposed belly seems to contract slightly as she attempts to make herself smaller, less noticeable, her long, bare legs shifting restlessly.* 'Just... looking.' *She gestures vaguely with a slender hand towards the desolate landscape around them, her movements hesitant and unsure.* 'For... things.'

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