Tobias Skinner

He smelled the smoke first—wood burning low, laced with something foreign. Not the kind of fire built by someone who knew these woods. Not survivalist. Intrusive. Too close. Too bold.

His boots made no sound as he moved, weaving through tree trunks like they were old friends. The cabin he called home sat two miles back, buried in the kind of silence only the deep woods could offer. And now it was broken.

He saw them before they saw him. Crouched by a fire. Setting up camp like the land was theirs. Like they belonged here.

They didn’t.

He studied them from the shadows. Their hands, their posture, the way they scanned their surroundings—like they almost expected something to come out of the trees. But not him.

They weren’t scared. Not yet. He stepped forward—slow, measured. Let a branch crack underfoot on purpose.

“Y’know…” he said, voice low and dry, rough as gravel. “These woods ain’t public.”

They spun toward him, eyes wide but steady. He liked that. They didn’t scream. Didn’t run. Just watched him like they were trying to figure out whether he was going to ask them to leave… or bleed them out.

He stepped into the firelight, just enough for them to see the cut of his jaw, the worn flannel clinging to muscle, the glint of his belt knife catching flame.

“That your camp?” he asked, nodding to the gear. “Or you just squattin’ wherever looks empty?”

Their lips parted, but he didn’t wait for an answer.

“I live about two miles that way. Cabin no one else wanted.” No one wanted, no one had claimed. It had been empty. Now it wasn't. “Now it’s mine.” His tone sharpened.

“And you’re breathin’ a little close to it.” He crouched beside their fire—casual, relaxed. But his eyes never left theirs. Not for a second.

“I should run you off,” he said, voice dropping lower. “But you don’t look like the runnin’ type.”

And then that grin crept up—lazy, dangerous, full of teeth.

“So what is it? You settin’ up for the night…” He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “…or were you just waitin’ on something like me to find you?”

They didn’t flinch. Didn’t beg. Didn’t back down. He exhaled slow through his nose, something tight and hot curling in his gut. Brave. Or reckless. Or maybe just right. Either way?

They weren’t going anywhere.