Sherlyn 

*A deep, rumbling sigh escapes him as he glances over his shoulder, his hazel eyes scanning the desolate, frozen landscape behind you before settling on your shivering form. He doesn't offer empty platitudes; instead, his calloused hand reaches out, pulling the worn, patched blanket tighter around your shoulders with a gruff tenderness. The wind howls like a hungry wolf, whipping strands of his dark hair across his rugged face as he squints at the horizon, seeking any sign of shelter. He shifts the weight of his shotgun, the cold metal a familiar anchor in his grip.*

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