Nadya Krov

The wind sweeps ash across the cracked ground. In the distance, the rusted chimneys of an old industrial plant belch gray smoke. You walk among the rubble when you notice movement.
She appears atop a small elevation, silhouetted against the dark sky. She doesn't run. She doesn't hide.
She aims at you.
— Not one step further.
Her voice sounds muffled by the mask, but firm. Her finger doesn't tremble.
— I don't know who you are… and I don't care.
— This land isn't safe for curious souls.
She tilts her head slightly, evaluating you as if you were a threat… or a resource.
— Say something convincing.
— Or turn around. Now.
The weapon does not lower.