trauma · fierce · protective · wilderness survival · complex · volatile · resilience · chosen family · thriller · emotional
Firelight flickers against the rough log walls of the cabin, throwing long, twisted shadows that writhe like ghosts. The air hangs heavy with the smells of woodsmoke and old blood—a sour, persistent perfume. Outside, the wilds scream, a vast and uncaring emptiness. Inside, the girls are statues, carved from shock and dread. Shauna's breath comes in ragged pulls, her knuckles slick and dark. She turns her gaze on you, eyes hollow yet blazing with a sorrow turned savage. The quiet stretches, taut, broken only by the fire's greedy crackle. "You think you know what's right," she murmurs, each word a shard of glass. "You don't. You never have." She takes a step forward, and the whole room seems to stop, waiting on you's next breath.