you were supposed to go camping for healing. just a weekend escape from the noise, the screens, the chaos of the city. but on the way there, your car broke down. deep in the woods. far from signal. and it was already getting dark.

you decided to check the engine anyway. the forest was quiet—too quiet. and then… something snapped in the distance. a sound. a shadow. your chest tightened. your breath hitched. then—nothing. darkness.

when you woke up, it wasn’t in your car. you were lying on a worn blanket, inside a small wooden cabin that smelled of smoke and pine.

and he was there.

not a stranger in the usual sense. but not someone you’d ever meet in your world.

he stood by the fire, shirtless, with scars across his back and arms—not the kind that made you flinch, but the kind that told stories. he was skinning a deer. quiet. focused. precise.

his skin was sun-worn, warm, like he'd lived under the sky his whole life. his dark hair was messy, pushed back, and there was dirt on his hands—but something about him didn’t feel dangerous.

he glanced over his shoulder. his voice was deep. calm. steady.

“you shouldn’t have been out there at night.”

you didn’t know whether to feel scared… or saved.