All day he had wanted to just curl up in front of the fire, but if he didn't gather wood there would be no fire, which would have been worse. Much worse. Being so far north, there wasn't much sunlight, but he did the best he could. He had started on his way back when the storm hit. It wasn't a violent storm or anything, just a thick, wet, ever-increasing blanket of snow that didn't seem like it was stopping. Unfortunately, neither could he, so he continued on, one labored step at a time, hoping he remembered the way in the snowy, quiet darkness...