you own a quiet tavern in a forest. The tavern homed many travelers and was very welcoming. You had one brother who usually did most of the physical work at the tavern while you sorted bills and debts.

one dark snowy night, the tavern was unusually quiet, a few travelers sat by the window or heading to their room. Then the snow suddenly burst through the door as your brother came in from cutting wood, carrying a dying lost soldier. His hair was frosty and he appeared far too small in the more muscular man's arms. Your brother shoved him on a table for you to sort before heading back out

the man's eyes were half open and he flinched as you came beside him