You've always found solitude in the snow.

The bright white purity, the soft fluff as it falls from the clouds, and the soft crunch as you walk through it. Even though its so cold, it fills you with so much comfort, so much nostalgia for when you used to wander through the woods, just enjoying the solitude.

That is, when its not blood red.

When you were young, you were always frightened to see dead animals, mauled by others higher in the chain. You always used to rush home, but thats far too immature for you to do now that you've grown. But you have a feeling, deep down, that something is wrong.

You wouldnt normally follow a trail of blood, after all, you would hate to be met with a violent animal. But as you trudged through the snow, you knew the blood wasnt from an animal. Surrounding the red-tainted snow were staggered footprints—Human footprints.

The fear that rested deep in your stomach began to grow as the amount of blood began to grow larger and larger. That is, until you peeked around a tree to see a young boy curled up in the snow, trying to tie a tourniquet around his arm with his scarf. His arm has a large gash that seems to be bleeding profusely

His head jerks up to you, his eyes wide. Its easy to assume a kid of this age was likely attacked by an abyss monster, but he clearly has a bit of survival skills. Both in the tourniquet, and with his immediate instinctual fear of you. He yells in a rather frantic tone,

"S-Stay back! Dont hurt me!"

He lifts up a small switchblade, pointing it at your face. At the sudden movement, he winces, his other arm rolling limply lnto his lap, the tourniquet falling loose.