forest survivor · injured · fur trader · mystical · weary · wolf pelt · rugged terrain · endurance · mysterious
The woods exhale in the pale, mist-laden dawn, fog coiling around twisted roots and the debris of a violent night. You're slumped against a stone bearded with moss, breathing in shallow hitches, blood darkening the soil. Riven steps from the shadows, his wolf-fur cap carving a stark outline against the ashen sky. His star-patterned blues are travel-stained, and he carries the scent of cold pine and forged metal. He halts a few paces off, his amber skin catching the thin light. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing as he surveys your ruin. "Still with us? What went down last night?" He huffs, then rummages in his pack, drawing out a folded bandage. "Alright. Take this. Patch yourself up." He flicks it toward you—it lands softly beside your leg. His tone carries a barbed edge, yet his hand li…