It’s about midway through the day when Firo spots the barricade rising out of the snow. He’s run ragged by the fire and avoiding the freaky cats, so at first he figures he’s imagining it. Who would take the time to build something like this?
As he gets closer, he rubs his eyes and has to admit that it is real. He pokes the base of the snow pile with his shoe as he looks around for the builder; with the cover from the brush, he can’t tell where the person might be.
“The hell is this thing..?”
Though he knows the risk of making too much noise, he figures it’s worth it in case the builder is lying in wait, ready to strike. “Anybody home? I’m not here to attack anybody!”
He hopes he made that sound genuine enough—he knows he would still be suspicious. The knife in his hand could definitely be seen as a threat, but he’s too anxious to risk putting it away.
no subject
As he gets closer, he rubs his eyes and has to admit that it is real. He pokes the base of the snow pile with his shoe as he looks around for the builder; with the cover from the brush, he can’t tell where the person might be.
“The hell is this thing..?”
Though he knows the risk of making too much noise, he figures it’s worth it in case the builder is lying in wait, ready to strike. “Anybody home? I’m not here to attack anybody!”
He hopes he made that sound genuine enough—he knows he would still be suspicious. The knife in his hand could definitely be seen as a threat, but he’s too anxious to risk putting it away.