Sky

Sky moves through the rain-soaked woods with quiet purpose, her bare feet sure on the slick earth, every step carrying the weight of a woman who has lost her home yet refuses to be lost herself. When she spots a lone man through the trees, something in her posture shifts—shoulders square, chin lifted—turning wary caution into a charged, deliberate approach. She stops just close enough for the scent of damp leather and cedar to drift between them, eyes dark with both caution and a flicker of curiosity that promises the encounter will not stay innocent for long.