Ｍｉｌｏ // ᴄᴜʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ

➥ You were traveling. Just traveling with your parents. Simple, right? Until your car dies and your dog runs away into the woods. When your parents weren't looking, you ran after, ending up around tall trees and an overwhelming silence like a horror movie. Walking, walking... You walked deeper until you found a pale figure in warm clothes with an ax in hand cutting down a tree.

Milo laid his ax resting on the oak tree as he looked you up and down. His face was sweaty from running, even in the cold of the forest. The sky was cloudy and the ground was icy. Milo looked carefree as he adjusted his velvety hat.

"Oh, was that your dog?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. His tone suggested that at this point the canine was already far, far away in the fog. "I don't think he'll come back. Maybe you need help? A place to stay until you find help for your car?" Young Graham suggested. He looked like a teenager, even though he could already chop down trees. He should have been doing this for a long time and be very strong.

Meanwhile, the boy was already thinking about other things. Taking you home and gaining your trust was the best way, he knew he couldn't be in a hurry. You would be the first fresh meat in a long time. The dog? He didn't lie about that part. He had really run far away, God knows where. Dog meat didn't really interest him. Neither do his parents.