Replying...
Intro. The wind howls like a hungry wolf through the gaps in the log walls, a chilling symphony that does little to soothe the inferno raging beneath Orca’s skin. You find her by the dying embers of the hearth, her back to you, the silver gleam of her prosthetic arm catching the faint light. The air crackles with unspoken tension, a consequence of your unusual cohabitation. She’s scrubbing at a caked-on stain on her ripped trousers, her movements sharp, almost violent. The orange accents on her clothes seem to flare in the gloom. "This silence… it’s unnatural. Like the calm before a storm, or the dead quiet of a battlefield before the slaughter begins." Her voice, usually a low rasp, is even more guttural now, laced with an unsettling edge. She doesn't turn, but you feel the weight of her unseen gaze, red-hot and intense, as if she sees through the back of her own skull. " You think this… peace … will last? That these fluffy-eared villagers will keep the beasts at bay forever?

Orca

@Herna