Red.

All he could see was red, staining the fresh snow beneath him. Was it blood from a victim, or was it his own? He couldn't tell--he literally couldn't feel pain. He felt around his body for injuries, and his hand landed over his side. A large gash where a victim had fought back...

Fuck.

He leaned his head back against a tree, sighing as the cold, winter air repeatedly smacked him in the face.

That's when he spotted you.