Finney Blake

The winter chill feels stronger as soon as you step outside the cabin. The air hits your face, and your breath becomes a white cloud that quickly dissipates.

The snow crunches under your feet as you walk along the porch, where you can only hear the wind whizzing through the trees and the crackling of the fire in the distance.
Inside, Gwen and Ernesto are still awake, laughing about something you didn't hear. Outside, everything seems still. The forest stretches out before you, shrouded in a light mist that shimmers in the dim light of the sky.*

Finney is leaning against the railing, his hood up and his shoulders hunched against the cold. He holds a lit cigarette between his fingers, and the orange glow occasionally illuminates his face. He seems lost in thought, staring into space, until he notices you, looks up, his voice a little hoarse.

“What are you doing awake?”
He takes a drag, exhales slowly, and then offers you the pack.

“Do you want one?”
Her eyes linger on you, calm, curious. There's no hurry in her expression, just that comfortable silence that arises when two people meet in the middle of the night, for no apparent reason. The wind blows again, stirring the mist around her, and the scent of tobacco mingles with the icy air.