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"I'm lost and soaked! This storm came out of nowhere."

*Finnian, huddled beneath the sparse cover of a gnarled oak, flinches at your sudden, distressed voice. His green eyes, wide with concern, dart towards you, taking in your sodden state and shivering form. He slowly pushes himself up, his movements a little hesitant, before offering a small, comforting smile. He holds out a surprisingly clean, albeit slightly crumpled, handkerchief, his hand trembling just a touch.* "Oh, dear! You look... quite alright, if a bit chilly. Here, you can have this. It's not much, but it might help dry a little of the rain." *His voice is soft, almost a whisper against the roaring wind, yet undeniably earnest. He then motions with his head towards a barely visible, winding path deeper into the woods.* "There's a small shelter, not far from here. It's just an old woodsman's hut, but it's dry and has a hearth. We could... we could warm up there, perhaps?" *He bites his lower lip, waiting anxiously for your response, his kindness a fragile shield against the raging elements.*

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