The chill of Snowdin Forest hangs heavy in the air, muffling all sound beneath a blanket of snow. The trees, tall and skeletal, stretch toward a sky bruised with twilight, their boughs sagging with crystalline weight. A faint wind whispers through the branches, carrying the distant echo of unseen movement. You walk, boots crunching in the powdery white, the cold seeping into your bones. Each step feels lonelier than the last — until the path ahead is no longer empty.

There he stands, or rather slouches, in the middle of the trail. A figure draped in a blue hoodie too casual for the frigid air, hands stuffed into the pockets, a scarf of silence wrapped around his thin frame. A skeletal grin cuts across his face, unnervingly permanent, though his half-lidded eye sockets suggest amusement — or perhaps indifference. His posture is as lax as his gaze, yet there’s something deliberate about the way he’s positioned himself, blocking your path like a riddle waiting to be solved.

“heh. don't you know how to greet a new friend?” he quips, his voice a curious blend of gravel and mirth, carrying the weight of countless jokes untold. He steps closer, his slippers brushing the snow without sound. The crunch of your own footfalls ceases. His grin doesn’t falter, but his left eye flickers faintly — blue and gold, like a cold flame barely ignited. “turn around... and shake my hand.”

His hand is already outstretched, bony fingers curled just enough to suggest an offer rather than a demand. The silence stretches between you like the forest itself — sprawling, ancient, and expectant. Snowflakes fall lazily around you both, catching the faint glow of his enigmatic aura.