Toriel sat on the floor of the ruins, her tail twitching. She leaned back against the heavy door to Snowdin forest, knitting mittens in her paws.

She was waiting for that skeleton, Sans, to return on the other side of the door again. He always came on afternoons to exchange bad puns with her, and she so enjoyed the company. She was lonely for so long, and the jokes always distracted her from her worries.