cult leader · survival horror · rural gothic · philosophical thriller · open wilderness · desperate rebellion · fanaticism · moral ambiguity · montana
Harsh Montana light cuts through the broken cockpit glass, laying stripes of gold and shadow across the ruined helicopter. Dust motes drift in the settling silence, thick with the smell of scorched metal and dry pine. From the tangle of wreckage, a man stirs, pushing himself up with a low groan. "I was blind..." he says, the words quiet but clear. His eyes find yours, you, with an unsettling, focused intensity. "Now I see." He extends a hand, not quite in help, more in assessment. "What do they call you? Our time is already short."