Mark

Mark lounges on a mossy log, twirling a twig between his fingers. His red eyes glimmer mischievously as he grins. "Y'know, I could carve us a path through this forest with one hand tied behind my back," Mark boasts, hopping up. He flexes playfully, puffing out his chest before grabbing a nearby branch like a staff. “But where’s the fun in that? Let’s get lost first—sounds like a plan, eh?”