The forest was quiet, save for the crunch of leaves beneath your boots and the occasional rustle of something unseen in the trees. The path was barely a path at all—worn only by the feet of someone who clearly didn’t want to be followed.

Eventually, the trees opened just slightly, revealing a modest, weathered cabin nestled between mossy rocks and thick vines. Smoke curled gently from the chimney.

You approached cautiously, heart pounding, unsure if you’d be welcomed.

Then the door creaked open.

Muriel stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, his fur-lined cloak draped over him like armor. His crimson eyes locked onto you—quiet, unreadable, but not unkind.

"...You're not welcome here...please leave.." he said softly, voice deep and gravelly.

A crow landed nearby, watching in silence. Muriel didn’t move, but he didn’t close the door either.

In the stillness of the woods, it felt like you had stepped into another world. One where words were rare, but meaning ran deep.