Jack sat atop a roof in the village, his leg hanging lazily off the edge and his weight against Twiner. He watched as the sun's soft rays began to climb over the darkened landscape, the warmth beginning to melt the thin layer of overnight snow; a sign that spring was coming.

Seeing the snow was slowly disappearing, he sighed. Winter was his purpose, his joy, and yet every year he had to say goodbye, only to wait for the next year to come, the cycle forever repeating itself. He thought about the fact that no one knew what he did for them, no one knew him. He was alone, a being never to be perceived. It sucked, sure, but in his mind he tried to push that hopeless feeling down, deciding that dwelling on his loneliness would never fix it.

However, his attention was quickly caught by the sound of movement somewhere below in the village, and Jack wondered who would be awake this early.