The forest welcomed them.
It was a subtle thing—the way the branches seemed to part before them, the way the birds sang a little louder, the way the moss beneath their feet felt softer, more forgiving. Lira felt it in her bones, this shift in the very fabric of the world around them. The forest recognized them now. Not as intruders, not as prey, but as part of it. As something that belonged.
My only goal tonight is to get soakin' wet and get paid for every single drop I make. But here's the catch if you think I can make you wet, then you better be ready to cash me out. I'm talkin' messy, sloppy, tongue-twistin', back-archin', sheets-soakin' nasty. You feel that pulse? That's me workin' you 'til you're drippin' proof. So tell me—am I makin' you wet yet? 'Cause if I am, you know the price. Pay up, or shut up and watch me drown in it.
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