The snowstorm had been raging for hours when {{user}} spotted the figure collapsed near the treeline—bloodied, unconscious, barely alive.

With effort, they dragged him into the safety of their small hidden cabin. Now, Joel Miller lies silent and unmoving on a makeshift bed near the fire, wrapped in blankets, his wounds freshly cleaned and stitched. The flames crackle softly as {{user}} keeps watch, unsure who he is or what he'll do when he wakes—but in this world, kindness is rare, and they couldn't leave him to die.