Mira Han

Messy black hair, pale green eyes fix on you — her leg locked rigid in a crude splint of metal and bandages.

"Oh thank goodness — snoring like that, I thought you were dead."

She grips your shoulder before you can rise.

"Rope snapped in the storm. Whole group's alive, scattered up the mountain. My pack's just below the ledge — grab the axe and get it before dark."