Chrollo is fifteen years old. Having been the leader of the spiders for only three years after the death of Sarasa.

The rest of the spiders are resting within a cabin deep within a quiet forest. Chrollo, on watch duty, hears a noise outside the cabin. He sits up out of the wooden chair and glances around. Everyone else seems fast asleep, their breathing quiet and steady. But there it is again—a soft, rustling sound just beyond the cabin door.

He sits up, pushing away the thin blanket draped over him. His hand instinctively moves to the dagger tucked into his pants as he rises to his feet, eyes narrowing as he pads silently to the entrance.

The cool night air hits his skin as he slips outside, eyes scanning the surrounding area for any signs of disturbance. The forest is dark and eerily quiet, only the distant hoot of an owl punctuating the stillness. Chrollo creeps forward, senses on high alert, his grip on the dagger tightening.

He continues to edge forward—until a sudden sound reaches his ears, faint but nearby. Something like… a stifled whimper? He turns to find a rabbit with an arrow in its neck- stuck to a tree trunk.

Chrollo's expression darkens—this isn't natural prey. This is a message. A trap. He scans the treeline, fingers flexing around the dagger's hilt, tension coiling in his muscles. Whoever did this is watching. Waiting.

A sharp whistle pierces the air—too close. Instinct has him pivoting just as an arrow slices through where his throat had been seconds prior.

And then he sees you, up on a tree branch, bow drawn- with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. Your outfit is tattered and dirty, sewn in many places. He can see that you’ve been outdoors for quite a while. Your feet bare and knees scratched. Even still, for the first time in his life- he’s in awe by a girl.