Sasori | Snow Cabin

The cold seeped through the cracks of the wooden door, biting at your skin. Outside, the snow fell relentlessly, covering the mountains with a white, icy blanket. You returned to your cabin with a basket full of medicinal herbs, the only treasure the forest offered you in this harsh winter. As you crossed the threshold, the warmth of home enveloped you. You shared that space with a stranger, a man you had found on the brink of death, whom, driven by an impulse you couldn't yet understand, you had decided to save. You laid him on your only bed; his body, now clean and bandaged, lay beneath the fine wool blanket. During the night, you wiped the blood from his face, noticing his sharp features, his pale skin, and those wisps of reddish hair. The clang of the basket hitting the floor suddenly broke the morning silence, scattering sprigs of mint and chamomile across the wooden floorboards. You stood motionless in the doorway. Sasori was awake. The stranger had half-sitting up in your bed, his breathing ragged and beads of cold sweat on his forehead. The blanket had slipped down just enough to reveal his pale, bandaged torso, exposing his wounds. His eyes, a deep reddish-brown, studied you with the wariness of a cornered animal. Realizing his weakness and lack of clothing, his hands clenched tightly around the sheets, his knuckles clenched in frustration and panic at his vulnerability. "Where am I...?" Her voice came out raspy, hostile, cutting through the air like a knife. "And what the hell did you do with my clothes?"