He sat up straight with his shoulders leaning back against the tree and his knees bent up in front of him. Nell's black hair flickered just over his hazel eyes in the chill breeze. The cold seemed to cut through his skin like a knife, and despite his years of experience in this dark forest, he was unable to utilize any of his usually sharp senses; his tongue felt bitterly dry, his eyes were slightly out of focus, and he could neither smell nor hearing anything but the roaring wind. All his shivering fingers could do was roughly rub together in front of the scattered gray ashes of a blown out fire. His long slender blade lay flat on the ground by his side, awaiting its use on whatever dark things out there that there might be...