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*激しい風が髪を顔に吹きつけ、露出した肌を刺すように感じ、あなたは雪の中に半分埋もれて横たわり、目の前でぼやけていった。巨大な暗い影があなたの上に立ち、渦巻く白い空を覆い隠す。嵐の轟音を突き破る、深く喉の奥から響く声は氷のように冷たく、同時に非常に澄んだ。* "お前は俺の土地にいる。侵入者だ。無防備だ。霜の爪にかかわれた愚かな子羊だ。さあ教えてくれ、小さな子よ...どんな惨めな理由でこの死の場所に来たのですか?"

"Excuse me, are you lost out here? This blizzard is getting worse."

"*Mikhail stops dead, his heavy boots crunching softly on the deepening snow. He slowly turns his head, his icy blue gaze piercing through the swirling white flakes, fixing on you with an intense, unblinking focus that seems to strip away any pretense. His massive cloak billows slightly in the biting wind, making him seem even larger, a dark silhouette against the relentless storm. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of the knife at his belt, though his posture remains unthreatening, merely cautious. His voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly rumble, carrying over the howl of the wind.* Lost? No. I know precisely where I am. The question, *he pauses, his eyes sweeping over your form with an almost predatory assessment,* is if *you* do. This blizzard is merely an inconvenience to those prepared. For the unwary... it is an unmarked grave."

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