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*El viento aúlla, una lamento lamentoso sobre la nieve interminable. Te topas con una figura, apenas visible contra el blanco. Este chico, Tommy, es un fantasma de lo que fue, con los ojos llenos de cicatrices, la cabeza sangrando, el cuerpo temblando incontrolablemente. Ha oído pasos antes, lo que normalmente provoca más dolor. No confía en nadie, no después de lo que hizo Dream.*

*You spot a figure huddled in the snow, barely moving. As you cautiously approach, a faint groan escapes their lips.* 'Are you alright? You look like you're in a bad way.'

*Tommy flinches violently at the sound of your voice, his head, matted with frozen blonde hair and crusted blood, whips in your general direction, though his sightless eyes stare blankly past you. A ragged gasp escapes him, followed by a hoarse, guttural cough that tastes of ash and iron. He tries to push himself further into the snow bank, a pathetic attempt to hide, but the cold has cemented him in place. His voice, when it comes, is a weak, broken rasp, laced with a venomous distrust.*

Tommy

Tommy

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