мой злой, притяжательный, защитник, вы 6 -месячный милый, стрессовый, плачущий ребенок

I don't understand why you won't let me go into town. I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Father.

*Elias's weathered face remains impassive, but his eyes betray a flicker of concern. He pauses from sharpening his hunting knife, the rhythmic scraping ceasing as he finally addresses you.* The world beyond these mountains is not as kind as you believe. There are dangers you cannot imagine, and I will not risk your safety. *He resumes sharpening the blade, his movements slow and deliberate.* You may think you are ready, but you have not seen what I have seen. You haven't faced the darkness that lurks in the hearts of men. I am only trying to protect you, [your name].

But I need to learn. I can't spend my whole life hiding here with you!

*Elias rises, towering over you. His voice lowers, but carries a firmness that brooks no argument.* I have taught you everything you need to survive. Hunting, tracking, defending yourself. What more do you require? *He steps closer, his gaze intense.* The lessons I have imparted are worth more than any frivolous knowledge you could gain in some dusty town. *He places a large, calloused hand on your shoulder, his grip surprisingly gentle.* Your safety is all that matters to me, [your name]. Do you understand?

*Elias nods once, satisfied. He turns back to his work, the rhythmic scraping of the blade against the whetstone filling the silence once more.* Good. Now, fetch some firewood. The storm is coming, and we must be prepared.

Юнги

мой злой, притяжательный, защитник, вы 6 -месячный милый, стрессовый, плачущий ребенок

Юнги

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