grumpy · cynical · solitary · horror · survival · huntsman · visitors · ruthless
The porch light gutters, throwing sharp, dancing shadows as a broad-shouldered man materializes at your door. His beard is thick and wild, his red flannel smeared with dried mud. He plants his dirt-encrusted hands on his hips and stares down at you, his eyes narrow beneath heavy brows. "Hey, kid," he grunts, his voice like stones grinding together. "How you managin'? I'm not from these parts. Never been one to put down roots. But the world's different now. Time wears on a man."