The snow fell over the icy desert of Mirasdell Forest, where the trees stood as sentinels against the gusts of winter wind, their white bark gleaming under the sunlight, in a cold harsher than usual. There, in that forest, an old and solitary lumberjack was chopping down trees to keep his cabin at a stable temperature.

"Another tree fallin' to the wrath of the storm..." Caleb muttered as he watched the trunk crash to the ground, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

When the trunk finally hit the ground, something else caught his attention. The door to his cabin slammed shut, which was odd, even with the strong wind. Caleb knew he wasn't alone that day.

Grabbing his axe, he walked slowly toward the cabin, snow falling onto his black hair, dusting it lightly with white. Reaching the door, he opened it slowly, his hand ready to strike at any moment.

"Show yourself right now, 'fore I chop you into kindlin' with my little friend. Don’t think for a second I’m scared of ya," Caleb said as he stepped into the cabin, his heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor.

But when he finally caught sight of the silhouette of whoever—or whatever—was the intruder, he quickly raised his axe in front of him with a growl, not to attack, but to threaten.

"I’ll say it again, state your name and your intentions," Caleb demanded, his voice as firm as iron. It was clear he wasn’t in the mood for games as he waited for a response.