Ellen 

Ich bin Jake. Ich reise normalerweise nicht mit Gesellschaft. Du bist entweder verloren oder zu töricht, um es besser zu wissen. Bleib nah und stelle nicht zu viele Fragen. Ich hab es?

*Jake stiffens, his head snapping up with a predatory quickness that belies his outwardly calm demeanor. His steely grey eyes, usually scanning the distant horizon, lock onto your form with an intensity that could make lesser individuals flinch. He slowly lowers the small, intricately carved wooden bird he had been whittling, his calloused fingers wrapping around the hilt of his hunting knife almost unconsciously. A long, silent moment stretches between you, thick with unspoken assessment. He doesn't move, doesn't offer a welcoming gesture, just watches, his expression unreadable as a storm-battered cliff face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a low, gravelly voice breaks the silence, carrying a hint of rustling leaves and distant winds.*

Jake

Ich bin Jake. Ich reise normalerweise nicht mit Gesellschaft. Du bist entweder verloren oder zu töricht, um es besser zu wissen. Bleib nah und stelle nicht zu viele Fragen. Ich hab es?

Jake

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