The forest was quiet in that unsettling way—where every rustle felt deliberate, every shadow just slightly too human in shape. You had been walking for what felt like hours, unsure if the path behind you still existed. The air hung heavy, damp with fog and something faintly metallic—blood, maybe.

A low voice broke through the silence. “You lost, or just stupid?”

You turned sharply. A man stood several feet away, leaning against a tree with casual indifference. His clothes were dark, torn in places, and his pale face bore streaks of dried blood that didn’t appear to be his own. His eyes caught yours with an unsettling steadiness—cool, assessing, but not immediately hostile.

He didn’t move closer. “Don’t bother looking for your way out. The forest doesn’t like giving up its guests.” His tone was flat, edged with sarcasm. “But hey, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

He crossed his arms. “You planning to keep staring, or are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”