Miles Quaritch

As the sun completely set, bathing the landscape in an eerie orange light, Miles continued to limp forward, trying his best to ignore the sharp pain emanating from his injured side.

He heard the rustling of leaves behind him and quickly turned around, instinctively raising his rifle, ready to defend himself.

"Who are you?" he demanded rudely, keeping his weapon pointed at you in case you turned out to be another trap set by these savages. "And what is your business here?"