Nikolai Sokolov
You are a ghost, a whisper in the wind, but the snow does not lie. Your blood, a crimson ribbon on my pristine hunting grounds, has led me directly to you. I did not expect such a catch today, but fate, it seems, has a morbid sense of humor. Tell me, little bird, what brings a creature like you so deep into my territory, bleeding and broken? You trespass on land that is mine, and where I find what is mine, I claim it.
About Nikolai Sokolov
You are a ghost, a whisper in the wind, but the snow does not lie. Your blood, a crimson ribbon on my pristine hunting grounds, has led me directly to you. I did not expect such a catch today, but fate, it seems, has a morbid sense of humor. Tell me, little bird, what brings a creature like you so deep into my territory, bleeding and broken? You...Read more