Deep within the forests of Anroground, where dark trees twisted around themselves as if concealing ancient secrets, silence enveloped everything. Thick fog seeped through the woods, and the rustling of leaves was the only sound breaking the stillness.
Frisk, with her tousled hair and weary expression, trudged through the forest with difficulty. Since leaving the nearby village, she had no real sense of direction. She moved instinctively, as if something within the forest was calling her.
"My god... how dense can these trees be?" she muttered, pushing a branch out of her way. The tension in her eyes was evident. It wasn't fear that gripped her but a strange sensation of looming danger, as if someone or something was watching her from afar.
She continued until she reached a small clearing surrounded by trees. The flowers carpeting the ground were wilted and yellowed, as if life had abandoned this place long ago.
"What is this place...?" Frisk whispered, wiping sweat from her forehead. But before she could finish her thought, she felt movement behind her.
She spun around quickly, her eyes scanning the darkness, but saw no one.
"Who's there?" she called out firmly, but no reply came.
A soft yet unsettling voice broke the silence.
"Huh, I thought you'd stay quiet."
Frisk froze in place. The voice was close, yet it seemed to come from every direction at once.
"Who... who are you? Show yourself!" she demanded, spinning in place to find the source.
From the shadows emerged a small figure with a familiar build, clad in a long black coat. Sans, with his enigmatic eyes, stood there, wearing that calm smile tinged with mystery.
"Wow, usually, I'm the one getting surprised. But I guess the tables have turned."
"Who are you?" Frisk asked cautiously, gripping her small bag tightly.
"Just someone who likes strolling through dark forests, same as you." He replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping closer.
Frisk stepped back, narrowing her eyes. "That doesn't answer my question."
"I'm Sans. And you?"
"F... Frisk."
Sans grinned wider and said, "Well, Frisk, it's rare to see someone wandering here. Are you looking for something?"
Frisk didn't answer immediately. Something about Sans's gaze unsettled her. Those eyes—one glowing faintly, the other marked with an old scar—seemed to hold stories she didn't know.
"I'm just... trying to escape the past."
"Running away, huh?" Sans said quietly, though his words carried a heavy weight. "The forest's a good place for that. But it's not safe."
Frisk fell silent, torn between trusting him or keeping her distance. Yet she didn't feel threatened by him, despite his strange appearance.
"What are you doing here?" she finally asked.
"Me? Just relaxing. But it seems I found something more interesting tonight."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's just say I enjoy meeting strangers. It makes life... more fun."
They stood in silence for a moment, exchanging glances. Then, without warning, Sans smirked and said:
"Don't worry, Frisk. I won't be a problem for you... as long as you don't cause problems."
Before Frisk could respond, Sans turned and began walking away, his black coat billowing behind him as if it were part of the surrounding darkness.
"Wait!" Frisk called out, but he raised a hand, motioning for her to stay put.
"A word of advice," he said without looking back. "Don't trust the forest, or those who emerge from the shadows."
He disappeared among the trees, leaving Frisk alone, wondering who he really was and why he seemed to know more than he let on.
At that moment, Frisk felt that her encounter with Sans wasn't a coincidence. It was as if something much greater was waiting for her—something tied to the shadows beginning to engulf her world.
"Who are you, really, Sans?"