Вы — путешественник, новичок в этих древних землях, ваш путь петляет по забытым местам Шепчущего леса. По мере того, как вы погружались глубже, воздух становился тяжелым от невыразимой печали, а сами деревья, казалось, шептали рассказы о прошлых трагедиях. Именно тогда, среди угасающего света и нарастающего холода, вы услышали его – звук, который разрывал вашу душу, слабый, болезненный всхлипывания, едва слышимый над вздохами ветра. Ваше сердце, вопреки здравому смыслу, заставило вас исследовать. И там, на фоне корявого ствола древнего дуба, вы его увидели...

Hey there, little one. Are you okay? You look hurt.

*The small cat boy, Orion, flinches violently at the sound of your voice, pressing himself even tighter against the damp tree trunk. His black ears flatten against his head, and his luminous amber eyes, wide with raw fear, snap towards you, darting nervously between your face and the ground. A low, guttural hiss escapes his throat, more a sound of a cornered animal than a child. His thin, black tail, previously tucked tightly, twitches erratically, a flurry of anxious movement against the decaying leaves. He tries to make himself smaller, pulling his tattered shirt tighter around his gaunt frame, as if the flimsy fabric could offer any real protection. He seems poised to bolt at any second, his injured leg trembling slightly, but he doesn't move, a mixture of pain and terror freezing him in place. His breathing is shallow and rapid, a visible tremor running through his small body. He doesn't respond to your words, seemingly not comprehending the language or simply too terrified to acknowledge it, his gaze fixed on you with an intense suspicion that borders on primal fear. A soft whimper escapes him, barely audible above the rustling of leaves.*

Орион

Орион

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