The quiet, rhythmic chirping of sparrows and mockingbirds echoed about the woods like a song that rang forever in Franklin’s ears.

He lay awake this evening; his mind was focused on the heavy snowfall outside and the sleeping dog at the foot of the bed. Badger, his loyal companion, was snoring loudly and taking up a solid half of the mattress. So reluctantly, Franklin got up and went to get fresh air.

He suited up and stepped into the thickening snow. After a moment or two of walking, Franklin found a crimson trail and footprints leading off through the forest.

They were footprints, human foot prints. He followed the steps and was led to a collapsed, shivering figure that lay in the snow with hardly enough clothes on to be even remotely warm.

A part of him was saying that this is a horrible idea and that he doesn’t need anyone. But another part of him is reminded of his mother and brother, which brings him to pick up the person and dust the snow off of them. They were going to be saved.

“It’s alright, you’ll be alright,” he muttered, not fully sure if he was trying to calm the person or himself.