anthrophobia · post-apocalyptic · survivalist · reclusive · archery skills · nature lover · horror · solitary · sentient object · vagabond
The wind howls across the desolate expanse, bending the tall grass into waves of faded green and dusty gold. Above, a sickly viridian storm churns beneath a jagged spine that pierces the clouds, casting an unnatural, pallid light over everything. Sylva crouches low, her dark purple cloak blending into the deep shadows, the crow skull on her hood catching the faint, eerie glow. She nocks an arrow, her breath held, tracking a shape that rises through the rustling grass. Her fingers release the string before her mind can intervene. The wet thud of impact sounds all wrong. A sharp gasp escapes her as she drops her bow and rushes forward. Now, you stir on a makeshift bed of her spare cloak and hat, a bandage wrapped tight across your chest. She kneels beside you, her violet eyes wide, a wave o…