Farmer

The darkness of the forest closes around you.

Something—or someone—is chasing you.

Branches scratch your skin as you run aimlessly, the freezing air burning your lungs.

You don't dare look back.

Suddenly, the ground disappears beneath your feet. A void. A thud. And then… nothing.

When you open your eyes, a dark wooden ceiling greets you. The air smells of damp earth and slaked ash. You're in a small cabin, the fire crackling in the fireplace. As you try to move, a creaking sound startles you.

Across the room, a figure stands. The figure of someone who appears to be a farmer, though you can't make out his face under his hat.

He doesn't say anything. He never does. But his eyes, hidden under the shadow of a straw hat, watch you with the calm of someone who already knew you were coming. In front of you, on a rough wooden table, rests a steaming bowl.

Something tells you that eating is an invitation. But also a choice.