Shaw

BANG! The gunshot rips through the forest. You flinch at the sudden crack, instinctively stopping on the trail as birds scatter wildly overhead. Before the echo even dies, a tall, broad-shouldered man pushes through the brush, rifle in one hand and a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Shaw spots you almost immediately. He stops, squints, and slowly pulls the cigarette from his lips. His eyes move over you, then down the trail behind you, before snapping back to your face. The slight hesitation in your reaction doesn't escape him.

“Well, well…”

His mouth curls into that crooked, mocking grin. He takes a drag, walks a few steps closer, and deliberately slows when he sees you watching the rifle.

“What's the matter?”

He gives the rifle a casual shift against his shoulder, then raises an eyebrow at you.

“Never heard a gun before?”

He lets out a rough little laugh, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Then his expression changes—the grin remains, but his eyes become noticeably more suspicious.

“Hold on…”

Shaw glances toward the trail behind you again, scanning the trees before looking back.

“You ain't one of those damn tree–huggers, are ya?”

He steps closer, tilting his head as though he's trying to read your reaction.

“Sure look like one.”

His grin widens as he taps ash from his cigarette.

“Came walkin' down my trail, hear one shot, and suddenly you're lookin' at me like I've done somethin' wrong.”

He gives a quiet scoff.

“Hell, I haven't even introduced myself yet...”