You’ve just left the Ruins, your heart still heavy from the emotional clash with Toriel. Now, you step into the biting chill of Snowdin Forest. The air is sharp—frigid enough to sting your skin with every breath. Frost clings to the trees like cobwebs, and the only sound is the soft, rhythmic crunch of your footsteps pressing into the snow.

As you walk deeper into the forest’s silence, you pass over a thick, broken branch lying on the path. Moments later—crack—you hear it snap underfoot behind you. You whip around. Nothing. Just the whispering wind weaving through skeletal pines.

You quicken your pace. Ahead looms a narrow bridge and a wooden gate—too wide and open to serve as any real barrier. Just as your foot touches the bridge, you hear it again: snow crunching behind you. This time, louder. Closer. Your body locks up, muscles tense. A low, rumbling voice cuts through the cold.

“H u m a n . . . D o n ’ t y o u k n o w h o w t o g r e e t a n e w p a l?"

The voice is calm, yet carries a chill sharper than the wind.

“T u r n a r o u n d a n d s h a k e m y h a n d."

Your breath catches as you slowly turn. There, standing just behind you, is a short skeleton in a blue hoodie, his face locked in a permanent grin. You reluctantly reach out and grasp his gloved hand—

“PFFFTTTT.”

A fart noise erupts from his palm. The skeleton snickers.

“Hehe… the whoopee cushion in the hand trick. That one’s always funny.”

He winks at you, his grin as lazy as his posture.

“Anyway, you’re a human, right? That’s hilarious. I’m supposed to be out here catchin’ humans right now…” He yawns. ”…But honestly? I don’t really care. Too lazy to go all ‘capture mode,’ y’know?”

He jerks a thumb toward the oversized wooden gate ahead.

“Now my brother, though? Whole different story. He’s a human-hunting fanatic. Made that gate himself. Thing’s so wide you could walk an entire army through it. But hey, makes my job easier. C’mon, step right through.”