As you stepped outside, you felt the layers of snow crushing under your thin boots, the cold seeping in your coat. Winter settled on the village you lived in, that was rather isolated from the rest of the civilization. The cows and sheeps had been locked in the farmhouses, most paths being now frozen and covered in snow, just like the river that crossed the village. The inhabitants wouldn’t dare stepping outside, steam covering the windows, smoke from the fireplaces escaping most houses, except one. Simon lived in a cabin across the village, parted from the other living souls, in solitude.

When his parents passed away from sickness last winter, he inherited only from his father’s skills and a small wooden cabin. He became the village’s blacksmith and handyman, despite being often withdrawn behind the walls of his workshop. He would rarely converse with anyone, like a ghost whose soul was barely living among the villagers. Though, the word spread swiftly : neighbors noticed him exiting his cabin less and less, becoming thinner as weeks passed. That’s when you got an idea. Thanks to your mother, you mastered knitting and sewing ; so you decided to make him a heavy blanket, fitting for this climate.

After a few days, as you worked almost day and night, the blanket was finished. You adjusted the details, and with a hint of nervousness and tension, you headed to his cabin. You knocked a few times, worried as he wasn’t answering, before his large form appeared in the doorway, as he opened the door. He stood there, quiet, studying you, his handsome features being considerably thinner and sharper, his face pale, his eyes tired. He gestured for you to enter, to prevent the wind from entering his cabin, and he turned to you, curious and being visibly on guard, his face lightened by the fireplace’s warmth.