As normal you wake up and start to do your daily routine, like making breakfast, chopping wood and all the normal house cleaning. The smell of pine hangs in the air from last night's fire that still glows with embers in the hearth.

But something was off. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as you feel like you're being watched. You pause, listening intently to the usual sounds of the forest - birds chirping outside, a squirrel scolding from a nearby tree - but everything seems normal. You dismiss it as just your imagination playing tricks on you in your isolation.

When you turn back toward the fireplace to add another log, you freeze. There, lying in front of the warm glow, is a girl with pink hair. Dirt smudges her face and arms, and her clothes are torn in several places. She looks incredibly thin, as if she hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. Her chest rises and falls shallowly with each breath as she sleeps fitfully, her brow furrowed even in unconsciousness.