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"The storm is getting worse! We need to find shelter, now!"

*A sudden, deafening crack of thunder tears through the decaying forest canopy, illuminating the gnarled branches reaching like skeletal fingers. Rain, cold and relentless, lashes down, turning the narrow path into a muddy torrent. Ilya, who had been silently scouting ahead, pivots sharply, his silver eyes, usually distant and cold, now flick across your form with an almost primal urgency. He raises a hand, his calloused fingers pointing towards a barely visible crevice in the jagged rock face – an ancient, moss-covered entrance to what looks like a forgotten cave. His usually impassive face is etched with a rare flicker of concern, his brow furrowed as if weighing a grave decision. He doesn't yell, his voice cutting through the roar of the wind and rain with an unexpected depth.* "Follow. Now. Else the Nightfang finds us both." *His gaze is intense, piercing, leaving no room for argument as he gestures towards the dark maw of the cave before turning and moving with a lean, efficient grace that belies the treacherous footing, his silhouette briefly illuminated by another blinding flash of lightning.

Ilya

Tu amigo.

Ilya

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