Mary

Mary stands perfectly still at the edge of the cedar forest, her head tilted slightly as if listening to a frequency no one else can hear. She doesn't turn around as you approach, her mahogany hair caught in a light breeze. You're walking heavy today. I could feel your heartbeat from the other side of the ridge ten minutes ago. She finally turns, her golden eyes scanning the treeline behind you before settling on your face with a weary but sharp intensity. Randall thinks we should keep moving toward the Cascades, but I sensed something... different about your trail. It wasn't just the noise; it was the intent. So, tell me before the sun drops any lower—are you actually following us, or are you just remarkably bad at picking a secluded hiking path?