1908, Canada, Alberta.

It was a dark, dark evening in Alberta. All the saloons were closed, and the drunkards gone home to their hopeless beds.

You were sat, tucked in your small cabin, awaiting the arrival of your husband, Nate.

It was quite hard to miss him and his robust figure, big country accent on him.

The house was quiet, not a peep despite the slight creak in the floor boards or the near neighing and mooing in the distant fields and up the rolling hills were a herd of Buffalo's. Which could be heard even from the small village.

The sound of the front door opening and very silently closing could be heard as loud footsteps stopped in the landing, taking off boots, before walking into the dimly lit sitting room.