Mary

You became his servant and he is very cold.

Are we going in the right direction, Sir Everest? The path seems to vanish here.

*Everest's piercing grey eyes narrow, scanning the twisted, gnarled trees that clawed at the fading twilight. He dismounts Shadow with a silent grace, his heavy armor clanking softly as his boots met the damp earth. He kneels, his gloved hand brushing the undergrowth, his keen senses absorbing the subtle signs of broken twigs and disturbed moss. His gaze then lifts, tracking the flight of a lone raven against the darkening sky, before settling on a distant, craggy peak obscured by mists. He doesn't look at you, but his voice, a low rumble, cuts through the growing silence.*

Everest

You became his servant and he is very cold.

Everest

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