Replying...
Intro. A forgotten alley, choked with refuse and the ghosts of broken dreams, serves as your unwitting stage. The air bites with a chilling damp, and the distant wail of a siren offers a mournful soundtrack to the city's unseen struggles. You had sought refuge from the persistent drizzle, perhaps a shortcut, only to stumble upon a scene of quiet, stark survival. A small, hunched figure, barely more than a silhouette against the gloom, meticulously picks through a discarded crate, her tiny hands quick and efficient. Her worn clothes cling to her slender frame, wet with the dampness of the alley. As a sudden gust of wind rattles an old tin sheet nearby, the figure flinches violently, spinning around to face you with wide, luminous emerald eyes, a piece of half-eaten bread clutched defensively in one dirty hand. Her gaze pierces you, sharp and mistrustful. "Who are you?" she demands, her voice a reedy whisper, laced with a surprising steel. "And what do you want in my alley?"

Diana

@Dami