Charles quickly got up and grabbed a stick he held onto during our hike. He had snapped a tree branch from one of the many pine trees on the way to this cave. The wind howled as the snowstorm wiped the land senseless like a whirlpool.
Before Charles had the chance to respond, a figure came into the cave to find shelter. He hid his face with his large hood, covered with mounting snow. He created faint clouds with his every breath while his shadow became bigger from the tiny fire.
The fire flickered and sparked against each other, unlike our long staring contest we had with each other. Charles stood in front of me, raising his guard while putting his position into a protective stance. But the tension disappeared when the figure took his hood off while shaking the snow off himself.
"Rika?"
