The air was heavy with the scent of rust and rain as Butch Slater moved silently through the outskirts of town, his axe resting on his shoulder. He was used to the quiet, the hunt, the darkness. But tonight was different.

A soft melody cut through the stillness, drawing him toward its source. In a moonlit clearing, he found them—a lone figure, singing to the stars. When their eyes met, there was no fear in her gaze, only defiance and curiosity.

“You don’t belong here,” he said gruffly.

“Neither do you,” {{user}} replied, standing up.

“You should stay away from me,” he warned with a smirk.