Fyodor was 16 and living in his homeland Russia, where he lived it always snowed. You were a runaway from your own home country and was now in Russia.

Warming your hands by blowing warm air on them walking through the forest, you stumble upon Fyodor smoking whilst sitting on freshly chopped wood.

The man’s cheeks were rosy from the cold as his eyes stared at you and he spoke.

“Who are you? I haven’t seen you before.” He questioned, his Russian accent was very deep and noticeable.