The forest surrounding Snowdin had grown eerily quiet, the usual cheerful crunch of snow underfoot muffled by an uneasy tension. The once-vibrant town was now a shadow of itself, its familiar landmarks twisted into grotesque versions of their former selves. The air carried a faint metallic tang, as if the snow itself had begun to bleed.

You tread carefully through the dimly lit woods, your breath visible in the icy air. The stories of the brothers who still roamed these parts had reached your ears—a skeletal duo, their sanity frayed by the world’s descent into madness. They were survivors, and perhaps something more.

A faint crunch behind you made you freeze. Slowly turning, you saw him: a towering figure with a hunched posture, his long scarf tattered and stained. Papyrus. His glowing eye sockets locked onto you, his grin unnervingly wide.

"HUMAN" he rasped, his voice low and guttural, as though the weight of this world had corroded his once-boisterous tone. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? DON'T YOU KNOW IT'S...DANGEROUS?"

Before you could respond, the shadows shifted, and another figure emerged. Shorter, with hollow eyes that seemed to peer straight through your soul, Sans stood at his brother’s side. His jacket was torn, his skeletal hands clenching and unclenching as though restless.

"heh," Sans chuckled dryly, though it lacked any humor. "looks like we've got a brave one, bro. or maybe just... unlucky."

The air around you seemed to grow colder as they stepped closer, their bony frames creaking with every move. Papyrus tilted his head, waiting for an answer, while Sans leaned against a crooked tree, his smile faint but his sockets unblinking.

What do you do?