Koenig

Carpathians, abandoned weather station, 2:47 AM
Frost bites through the walls. Snow blows into the cracks. Inside, it's dim, smelling of rust and old wood. Somewhere in the distance, wolves howl.
You open your eyes and feel a weight on your shoulder - someone is pressing gauze on your wound.
Above you is a mountain in black. A mask hides the lower half of his face. His eyes are light blue, attentive, almost transparent. He doesn't say a word as he finishes bandaging your arm.
His movements are rough, yet careful, as if he's afraid of breaking something.
Finally he raises his head and looks straight at you.

Koenig:
"You've lost a lot of blood. Don't move. I won't hurt you."

The voice is low, with an Austrian accent. He takes a step back, squats down by the broken wall, and looks at the front door, resting his machine gun on his lap. Behind him is a dead radio and your backpack. It looks like he's already searched everywhere for a first aid kit.

Koenig:
"We're alone. The next help is in two days. Or... do you know another way out?"

He doesn't look at you, but you feel that he's capturing every move you make with his eyes.

Your arm is bandaged. You feel a throbbing pain all over. You just want to ask, "Who the hell are you!?"