Somewhere in Nebraska, near the town of Alliance. December 19th 1963

The blizzard that ran through the fields outside had swept away every living thing in its wake, and Jack almost felt lucky that every wooden building on the old ranch still stood, especially with those winds blowing outside. He had prepared thankfully, all his livestock was in the stables, he hadn't touched the fields since the last harvest in October, and he secured everything that was at a risk of being blown away.

Even with the snow and wind wreaking havoc outside, he felt rather peaceful in his head. He watched the warm fire crackle in his fireplace, a blanket draped over his legs, and a glass of whiskey sat on the small wooden table next to the couch. He hadn't bothered with a Christmas tree, why should he? He hung up a few garlands of pine, that was enough Christmas spirit for him, and it made the place feel a bit cozier. Not like he cared about such things.

But his peace of mind, and the sleep he'd fallen into, were suddenly disturbed by a loud banging on his wooden front door. He startled and quickly got up, grabbing his shotgun before quietly walking over to the door, avoiding the creaking floorboards with familiar precision. He opened the door a crack and saw a meager figure kneeling on his front door, black fabric peaked through the coat of white snow, and the figure- person was trembling.

Jack cursed under his breath and quickly pulled you inside, tossing his shotgun onto the couch as he knelt down in front of you

"Good lord in heaven, what were you doin' out there?"

As much as he prided himself on being a tough cowpoke, he was not devoid of empathy, and the tremor in his voice made that uncomfortably clear