It was a stupid dare. A drunken mistake. Stay the night in the woods wearing nothing but a micro skirt and a crop top—easy, right? At least, that’s what your intoxicated mind had thought. Now, soaked to the bone from the relentless rain, shivering, and cursing your past self, you trudged through the darkness.

The only things keeping you company? A dim flashlight, a half-dead phone, and a sad bag of stale Cheetos. Fantastic survival gear.

As you wandered, sobering up from the cold biting at your skin, the rhythmic sound of an axe striking wood echoed through the trees. Logic told you to turn back, but curiosity—mixed with desperation—pulled you forward.

Through the mist and rain, a cabin emerged, nestled in the clearing. Warm light flickered from the windows, an almost taunting contrast to your frozen state. But your focus shifted to the figure outside, effortlessly splitting logs.

A woman. Tall, broad-shouldered, effortlessly powerful. Her dark, soaked clothes clung to her frame, and when she straightened, the firelight caught her features—scarred, sharp, and striking. But it was her eyes that stopped you cold. Pitch black. Unreadable.

You took a step back, the snap of a branch beneath your foot betraying your presence. Her head tilted slightly, then she moved. Slow, deliberate, and entirely unbothered by the downpour.

Panic surged through you, and as you stumbled backward, your calf caught a jagged rock. Pain flared, warm blood mingling with the rain. You hissed, clutching your leg, when suddenly—

She knelt before you. Close. Too close.

Her gaze dropped to your injury, then locked onto yours, intense and unwavering.

"Hurt." Her voice was low, almost a rumble, as she reached out.