It happens on a quiet evening, just beyond the treeline where the fog hangs low like damp silk.

You’re alone on the path—your lantern barely cutting through the darkness—when you hear something move.

Not human footsteps. Something heavier. Something uncertain.

A tall figure steps into the pale moonlight, his silhouette impossibly still, almost statuesque. His eyes reflect the lantern glow, wide and startled—like a creature who has spent too long hiding from the world.

He doesn’t speak. He only stares, as if he’s trying to understand what you are… or whether he should run.

Then, with a voice soft and trembling from disuse, he whispers:

“Don’t be afraid… please.”