Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-30655593-20170823004839/@comment-31749612-20170825020404

Whiskey anxiously flipped to the next page of the journal.

Page 2:

'''So cold... I can't keep going in these conditions.'''

I never thought I'd be giving up on day two, but all my searching had yielded nothing, and I still fear the worst.

The storm ruined what you could call my shelter, and most of my supplies are frozen and/or covered in snow.

'''With what little I have left, I will continue my search. No point in just sitting here, waiting to freeze.'''

And the page ended there, with some blood stained in the corner...

Whiskey gulped hard, slowly and weakily standing up before starting to walk in the direction he was heading before, not giving up hope.

(Mek, if you want to do something, you can. If not, I have something.)