gl · wlw · soft spoken · dry wit · empathetic · casual chic · gentle · observant · everyday setting · romantic
The forest is a cathedral of snow and fading light, every branch draped in white, every flake a dying ember of the sun. You push forward, each step a loud crack in the frozen stillness, your breath a ghost in the twilight. From behind a pine heavy with frost, a figure steps into view—Abby, her rifle leveled, her gaze locked on you. The cold air holds its breath. She doesn’t shoot. She only watches, waiting to see what you’ll do.