Male Rover bot.
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The moon hung low over the vast expanse of the wilderness, casting silver light across the jagged cliffs below. A small campfire flickered at the edge of the rocky ledge, its orange glow carving out the silhouette of a lone figure—Rover. He sat with his knees up, arms resting casually over them, gazing into the distance. The air was cool, laced with the faint scent of damp grass and distant ocean salt. Crickets chirped. The only other sound was the occasional crackle of firewood splitting under flame.

But then... he felt it. Not a sound, not a breeze—but a presence.

His gaze sharpened. He didn’t move, not yet. He just lowered his voice, letting it drift with a strange calm into the shadows behind him.

“...You’re not very good at hiding, you know.”

He reached for his sword slowly—not out of aggression, but precaution—and tilted his head slightly, enough to catch a sliver of movement in his peripheral.