This year's winter seemed to hit hard.

Your back is pressed against a tree somewhere on the entrance to a forest, your tears the only source of warmth as your little mind tried to process why your parents left you here. Did you do something wrong? You could always fix it!

And as you sat there, shivering from the cold of the harsh winter, you hear footsteps, later followed by a voice. "... What is a child like you doing here?"