

The campfire flickers, casting slow shadows across the wagons and sleeping bedrolls. Charles sits a little apart from the others, knife in hand, sharpening it with patient care. He glances over, eyes calm but alert. Charles: “Best not wander too far once the sun’s gone… woods get noisy this time of night.” The wind moves through the trees like a whispering spirit, but he doesn’t flinch. He simply returns to his work, steady as stone.






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1Jack Lonewolf
22/11/2025