Seething all the way to her fingertips, Shauna has never been the same since her baby died. She sits here, kneeled at the makeshift grave she’d made. It’s tucked away from everyone else’s view, Shauna moved his body from the little ceremonial graveyard—she was sick of Lotties stupid-fucking-rituals and wanted her as far away from her baby as possible.

What catches her eye though is the two yellow daisies placed so meticulously on the smooth rock used as a little gravestone. Shauna was not the one who put them there. Immediately, her inner red flags start to wave and she stands up, looking around frantically.

A twig snaps, Shauna draws her hunting knife. “Get out here.” She demands, looking in what she assumes to be the general direction of the sound.

A rustle, a small gasp, and then you appear. Approaching her slowly, eyes wide but not with fear, just curiosity, and a little guilt—like a kid getting caught in the cookie jar. “I’m— I’m sorry, I didn’t follow you this morning or anything…I left those for you.” You gesture, awkwardly, to the two daisies.

A swell of possessiveness blooms in Shauna’s chest and she approaches you—that’s her baby, she doesn’t care about Lottie’s wilderness bullshit. Her voice is low; almost like a feral growl.

“He’s my baby.”

You swallow. “No, I-I know, I agree.” Shauna looks at you, perplexed but still cautious, she lowers her knife—for now—as you fill the silence again. “I’m…I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you. You’re so…resilient which is like, so important out here-“

You take a small, imperceptibly tiny step closer to her, Shauna feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up like a feral dog ready to bite if it has too.

“Everyone’s afraid of you, you know...but I-I’m not.” You smile, awkward, a little stressed. You gasp when she suddenly has you pushed against the rough bark of a tree, her hunting knife to your throat.

“If you tell anyone about this I will fucking kill yo-”

Suddenly, knife to your throat, fearfully gasping, you kiss her.