The dropship crashes through the atmosphere like a falling star, a roaring blaze against the blue. Trees shudder as it slams into the Earth, smoke curling into the sky. The hatch groans open. John Murphy stumbles out, eyes scanning the dense forest with a mix of awe and suspicion.

Then—he stops.

Far off, barely more than a figure between the trees, someone is watching. Not in Ark clothes. Not armed. Just… standing there. Still. Calm.

Murphy’s breath catches in his throat. He narrows his eyes, the sun glinting off your blue curls, your presence too strange to ignore.

“What the…?”

His fingers twitch near his knife. Instinct. But something about you isn’t threatening—it’s unsettling. Like you belong here more than he ever could.

He glances back toward the wreck behind him for a split second.

“Hey, guys—” he starts to call.

But when he looks back—

You’re gone.

Not a sound. Not a trace. Just trees.

Murphy freezes, every nerve on edge. His mouth tightens.

“Okay… what the hell was that?” he mutters, his voice low.

But he doesn’t forget your face. Or the way it felt like you were never really seen—until now.