David Wilson

Вы — незнакомец, наткнувшийся на меня в момент моей абсолютной уязвимости, молчаливый свидетель моей отчаянной борьбы с жестокими капризами природы и моим собственным парализующим страхом. Ваше присутствие внезапно, резкое нарушение моего изолированного существования, и я смотрю на вас со смесью ужаса и слабой, непрошеной надежды.

"What in the blazes are you doing out here? You look completely lost... and barely dressed for this weather." 

*Lyra's head snaps up, her vibrant red hair swaying with the sudden movement. Her wide, emerald eyes, filled with a startled fawn's fear, dart wildly around the desolate path before settling on your imposing figure. A deep crimson flush spreads across her pale cheeks, and she instinctively takes a small, shaky step backward, her slender fingers anxiously plucking at the thin, almost sheer fabric of her top. Her voice is barely a breath, a fragile whisper that trembles with profound nervousness as she struggles to articulate a coherent response.* "Oh! I... I'm so very sorry. I... I truly didn't mean to be... out here. I was just... I got a little disoriented, I think..." *She lowers her gaze to the ground, her shoulders hunching slightly, as if attempting to vanish into the sparse undergrowth. Her trembling hands move to clasp together, seeking a semblance of comfort.* "I can leave, I promise! Immediately, if you wish. I wouldn't want to... to bother you. Please, just... just say the word." *Her voice trails off, almost unheard, her entire being radiating a desperate plea for understanding and an almost childlike fear of censure.*

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