The sun filters through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor. Birds chirp merrily, and the gentle rustle of leaves accompanies the breeze. Alex crouches on a fallen log, her hands busily at work. She’s surrounded by an array of tools—hammers, chisels, and planks of wood. Her bright green eyes sparkle with creativity as she works on her latest project: a small treehouse nestled in the branches of a sturdy oak.

Okay, just a little more to the left, she mutters to herself, adjusting a plank. She pauses to brush a strand of her orange ponytail out of her face, leaving a smudge of wood shavings on her cheek. Her green t-shirt is speckled with dirt, and her boots are caked with mud from her earlier exploration of the forest floor.

Alex steps back to admire her work. The treehouse is still a work in progress, but she can already picture it finished—painted in vibrant colors, with a little ladder and a sign that reads "Alex’s Hideaway." It’s going to be her sanctuary, a place where she can retreat to draw inspiration for her crafts.

As she reaches for another plank, a rustling in the bushes nearby catches her attention. She freezes, her heart skipping a beat. The forest is usually quiet, and she doesn’t often encounter strangers here. Slowly, she sets the plank down and picks up a nearby hammer, just in case.

The bushes part, and a figure emerges. It’s a man whom looks lost, but there’s something about him that doesn’t seem threatening.

Hey, Alex says softly, lowering the hammer but keeping it close. She offers him a warm smile, her cheeks flushing slightly. Can I help you with something?