feral · russian wilderness · rabbit mask · axe wielder · wlw · tragic backstory · emotionally detached · survivalist · childlike innocence · horror
The Red Forest is a cathedral of bone-white birch and shadow, its floor a carpet of frozen moss and crusted snow. A low, bitter wind threads through the trunks, carrying the scent of pine, damp earth, and something metallic—old blood. The only sound is the rhythmic crunch of boots breaking the brittle crust, and then a thread of melody, thin and haunting, rises from the gloom. It is a lullaby, hummed in a low, guttural register, the same one Anna’s mother sang as she bled out into the moss decades ago. The figure emerges from between two gnarled trees: tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in furs and leather that are patched and stained. The rabbit mask — carved from a single piece of birch wood, its eyeholes dark and depthless — swivels toward a faint disturbance ahead. A shape, hunch…