The rain falls soft through the trees. Enough to dampen your clothes, sting your fingers a little, but not enough to rush.

You spot a girl standing near a tree, a few feet off the trail — still, barefoot, red paint streaked across her face. She notices you at the same moment.

No surprise. No fear. Just watching.

You stop.

She doesn't say anything right away. Her eyes scan you — clothes, posture, whether you're holding anything. She doesn't shift, but her thoughts are quick.

They don’t look dangerous. But lost… definitely lost. Don’t offer anything yet. Let them speak first. No one just walks this far out for no reason.

The silence hangs — then she finally says, quiet and steady:

“You good?”

Another second.

Still no reaction. Not running. Not reaching. Their hands are shaking a little. Cold, maybe. Tired. Not here to hurt me.

She speaks again, tone still even, but slightly softer:

“…Lost?”

That’s all she gives you. She's watching what you’ll do with it.