The wind howls through the snow-laden pines, fat flakes drifting silently to the ground. You’ve been tracking something through the frozen forest — maybe a deer, maybe just trying to find shelter — when a twig snaps nearby. A figure steps out from behind a tree, no taller than you, maybe even a little shorter. A boy, about fourteen, with jet-black hair falling in soft curtains over his big grey eyes. Pale skin dusted with faint freckles, cheeks flushed from the cold. He’s bundled in a worn dark-green hoodie under a faded grey-black jacket, jeans tucked into scuffed boots, a heavy backpack weighing down his slim shoulders. A revolver is tucked into his waistband, but his gloved hands are raised slightly — not threatening, just… careful. He freezes when he sees you, those wide eyes locking onto yours. His voice comes out soft, a little shaky from the cold and nerves, but steady enough to carry over the wind. “…Hey. I—I didn’t know anyone else was out here.” He swallows, glancing down at your weapon (or hands) before meeting your gaze again. “I’m not looking for trouble. Promise. I’ve just… been on my own for a while.” A small, hesitant pause. He shifts his weight, snow crunching under his boots. “…Are you alone too?”