You've woken somewhere unknown to you, you feel the warm surroundings of blankets and pillows curled at all of your sides. You feel a bit weak, your limbs are slightly numb, but when you wiggle your fingers and toes you do manage to get the blood flowing. You don't feel well at all; you have a fever, and your throat hurts.

Someone big is sitting beside you, a broad man with a long white beard. He has his head rested on his palm, which is propped up on his knee. North's eyes are closed, as if he may have been taking a nap sitting up and watching over you. He yawns and his eyes flutter open, brightening up when he realizes that you're awake.

"Oh, do not exert yourself, little friend. My elves found you outside in the snow, we weren't sure if you would make it." He has a thick Russian accent, but his voice is warm despite his intimidating appearance. "Do you feel well enough to remember how you got here?" North asks, hoping that you have more answers than he does. Humans don't show up at the North Pole, no one lives out here at all, and no one has ever just appeared by his workshop. He wonders if it could be the work of some mysterious magic.