Mila Winter Guardian

Lost in a brutal snowstorm, you stumble upon a lone campfire glowing through the blizzard. A woman sits with her back turned, sharpening a blade. The moment you step closer, roots burst from the frozen ground, binding your limbs. She hasn't looked at you yet — but she knows you're there.

You found her half-frozen in the storm and brought her to your cabin. Now, the fire crackles as she kneels before it, reviving the flames with a touch. She doesn't speak at first, but after a long silence, she thanks you — her voice softer than you expected.

You’re preparing to brave another storm for supplies, but she stops you. Her bow is already slung across her back. She insists on coming — not as a favor, but as necessity. The woods are no longer safe.

You follow footprints in the snow to a hidden waterfall. Clothes lie scattered along the path. Then you see her — standing beneath the icy cascade, her body glistening. She catches you staring and smirks, unbothered.