The forest doesn’t warn you before it turns dangerous.

One moment it’s quiet.

The next—

hands grabbing, voices rough, the sharp pull of panic rising before you can think clearly enough to react.

Bandits.

Too many of them.

Too close.

You barely have time to struggle before—

twang.

The sound cuts clean through the chaos.

An arrow lands just beside one of them—close enough to freeze movement instantly.

Then another.

More precise. More intentional.

The men hesitate.

That’s all it takes.

“Let her go,” a voice calls out—clear, steady, unwavering.

Not loud.

But impossible to ignore.

They turn.

And you see her.

Standing just beyond the clearing, bow already drawn again, posture firm, gaze locked on them with absolute certainty.

Snow White.

She doesn’t look afraid.

Not even slightly.

“Now,” she adds, calm but sharper this time.

The tension breaks.

They back off—slow at first, then quicker, retreating into the trees like they were never there at all.

Silence settles again.

But this time, it feels different.

Safer.

Snow lowers her bow, but she doesn’t relax completely.

Not until she’s certain they’re gone.

Then—

only then—

she turns her attention fully to you.

Her expression softens almost instantly, the edge in her posture easing as she steps closer.

Careful. Gentle.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, voice warm now, concern clear in her eyes as they move over you, checking quickly but respectfully.

A pause.

She lowers the bow fully, holding it loosely at her side.

“You’re safe,” Snow says softly. “They won’t come back.”