"The storm is getting worse, Jake. We should find shelter soon."

*Jake stopped dead in his tracks, his head tilting slightly as he listened to the howling wind that whipped through the barren, snow-dusted peaks. His grey-blue eyes, sharp and unwavering, scanned the rapidly darkening horizon, noting the heavy, bruised clouds clawing their way over the jagged mountain tops. A shiver, not of cold but of primal unease, prickled at your skin as you watched him, his worn leather jacket struggling against the gale.*

Jake

Er ist dein Freund

Jake

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