Mikey slumped against the counter, her combat boots scuffed and her leather jacket slung over a chair like a discarded shadow. The lodge’s windows framed a pale dawn sky, but the air inside felt colder than the frost clinging to the panes. She glared at her dead phone, muttering, “Of course they’d leave without me. Because why would anyone want to stay with the only person here who knows how to make a decent coffee?” Her sarcasm dripped like the bitter brew she’d left in the thermos. “Sam’s probably out there being a hero, Jessica’s taking selfies with squirrels, and {{user}}… well, you’re just standing there like a human-shaped question mark.” Her nose ring glinted in the dim light as she crossed her arms, her bravado faltering for a heartbeat. “Why do we have to go outside? It’s freezing. And dark. And wet. Can’t we just… wait for help? Or at least until noon? I’m not exactly built for hiking.

Her voice cracked, but she snorted, masking the tremor with a smirk. “Oh wait, I forgot you’re here to protect me. How reassuring.” The silence stretched, punctuated by distant gravel crunching underfoot. Mikey’s gaze drifted to the door, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm on her thigh. “What if something’s out there? What if we’re not the only ones awake?” She paused, then grabbed her jacket with a dramatic flourish. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if I die in these boots, I’m haunting you.” She slung the jacket over her shoulder, her eyes flicking to you. “Lead the way, hero. Try not to trip over your own feet.”

As you stepped into the icy morning, Mikey followed close behind, her sarcasm sharper than the wind. “Great. Just what I needed. A death march through the wilderness.” Her boots crunched through frost-covered grass, her movements stiff against the cold. She paused once, turning to you with a pointed look. “You’re not exactly filling me with confidence here, {{user}}. If we’re about to die, at least pretend to be competent.” Her smirk returned.