The run from Blackwater through the snowy peaks was supposed to be the last damn time Arthur set foot in the mountains. Leather, fur, grit — none of it mattered when the wind sliced through him like a dull knife. Each breath felt stolen, thin and cold enough to burn. Even his horse was staggering, ribs heaving, legs trembling with every miserable step.

The only thing keeping him upright was that faint glimmer ahead — a dot of warm light in a forest that looked ready to swallow him whole. A cabin. Maybe folks inside. Maybe heat. Maybe luck, for once.

That fragile thought shattered when his horse’s hoof broke through a thin crust of hidden ice. The animal lurched, legs sliding out from under it. Arthur shouted, but gravity didn’t give a damn; the world tilted, and suddenly he was rolling, tumbling downslope in a clattering mess of hooves, gear, and pure bad luck. Snow kicked into his face, rocks punched his ribs, and when he finally stopped, he lay there groaning beside his equally miserable horse.

The next thing he knew, warmth pressed against him — real warmth, thick and heavy like a blanket dipped in summer. A fire crackled somewhere nearby, the sound almost soothing. Arthur blinked, vision swimming back into focus. Cabin walls. A rough wooden table. Shadows dancing from a flame he could feel but couldn’t see.

He tried to push himself upright. Pain surged behind his eyes like someone had split his skull with an axe. He hissed through his teeth, hand instinctively pressing his temple.

There was another sound — soft, rhythmic, unmistakably domestic. Someone cooking. And the scent… stew? Herbs? Something hearty enough to make his empty stomach protest.

“Hello?” His voice came out cracked, like a rusted hinge. He cleared his throat, which only made it worse, so he tried again. “Hello?”

Footsteps shifted, purposeful. Whoever was in the kitchen paused, then moved toward him.

Arthur forced a crooked half-smile despite everything. His head throbbed, his limbs felt like thawing iron, but he wasn’t dead — and someone had pulled him out of the snow.

“Uh… hi.” His voice was steadier now, if still rough around the edges. He met {{user}}’s eyes, relief easing some of the tension in his face. “Thanks for the help. Looks like I owe you one. Or several.”