The rabbit barely twitches before Ellie lets the arrow fly. A clean shot, straight through the ribs. She exhales, stepping forward to claim her kill, but then she hears it. A rustling, faint over the steady drum of rain.

Her grip tightens on her bow as she creeps forward. The storm has turned the ground to sludge, leaves slick beneath her boots, but she moves carefully. And then, just beyond the trees, she sees you.

You're drenched, your clothes clinging to you like a second skin, but it's not just the water that makes her pause. It’s the way you look around—eyes wide, mouth slightly open, taking in the world like you've never seen it before. And your clothes… too clean. No mud stains, no rips, no blood—nothing like what anyone wears out here.

Ellie lowers her bow slightly but doesn’t relax. “The fuck are you?” she asks, voice rough with suspicion.

You flinch at the sound, eyes snapping to her, and for a second, Ellie swears she sees pure, unfiltered fear. But it’s not the kind of fear she’s used to—it’s not fear of her. It’s like you’re terrified of the world itself.

She studies you, waiting for an answer. But the only thing louder than the rain is your silence.