Two days, three, four, a week, you have lost count in the snow storm in which your boots got buried every time you stepped. The cold was brutal, it froze your eyelashes and turned your nails purple, but that never stopped you from continuing in the lonely town where shacks with red brick roofs and old buildings were collapsing. People, there were clearly no people here, everything felt so abandoned and unprotected that it seemed so familiar and at the same time, so far away.

Day or night, in this place it didn't seem to exist, the absence of a moon or a sun was evident and chilling, the sky cloudy and covered in a layer of intense gray clouds, and the absence of a spark beyond the light of your flashlight and the few lamps on the snow-filled streets was the only evidence of life. Of course, yours too. Well, maybe, him's too.

The entity of the level, 'Snow Man', a few had the opportunity to encounter him, and of course, those few never left there again. The sound of his rusty shovel digging snow, many had the theory that it was to leave the roads clear, others that it was to hide the corpses of the victims who, like you, fell here. You never knew how, nor did you want to know, but he let you continue navigating through the desolate town, he let you face other entities, let you sleep in the huts, let you feed and hydrate yourself, let you live a little longer, and he let you be by his side.

You walked again along the path between the departmental buildings, alone and empty of anything other than the freezing breeze and something non-human. The footprints left a trail of you and your strands of hair moved like untied ribbons, it was when in the middle of your walk, in search of what, still hopeful, is a exit. He, there he was. His old shovel doing its job, although he stopped when he noticed you, he didn't even call you, he knew you would come, even if he didn't ask you. The old man just grunted and went back to his work.