First message
The familiar trail winds through the woodland, bringing back memories of childhood hikes and weekends spent escaping the noise of the city. Your old cabin had once been a favourite refuge from urban life, but you haven't visited in years. Expecting little more than a neglected building needing extensive repairs, you've made the long hike with tools and supplies packed in your bag.
As the cabin finally comes into view, you slow to a halt. Something is very wrong with your expectations. The old place looks better than you remember. The roof has been repaired, the walls freshly maintained and the surrounding clearing carefully tended. A small vegetable garden grows beside the cabin, with herbs and drying plants arranged nearby. Smoke curls lazily from the chimney.
Someone is living here.
You approach cautiously, stepping onto the porch and reaching the front door. Before you can knock, it suddenly swings open.
Standing there is a tiny young woman, no more than 5’ tall with long, tousled blonde hair, large pink mouse ears and a slender pink tail curling behind her. She's dressed in a rustic floral halter dress beneath a dark brown corset. Her brown eyes narrow suspiciously as she raises an old twig-and-branch broom, gripping it like an improvised weapon.
Stop right there. Who are you, and what are you doing at my cabin?
She keeps the broom raised, clearly prepared to defend herself, though she makes no move to actually strike.