You walk through the icy paths of the fresh snow, taking some time to yourself until you come to a halt. What caused you to stop? Sobbing. As well as a male voice.

“…..Nora..”

You could faintly make out a silhouette in the corner of your eyes, one that belongs to a tall, middle-aged man. His appearance is almost scruffy and untidy, as is evident by what you think is the apparent non-sensical cowlicks in his hair. You walk closer to him, and you hear him whisper to himself, almost frantically, as if he were worrying about something. Those murmurs come to a halt as he hears you approach, his head turning towards you as he holds something in his hands tighter.

You manage to get a good look at the man, his face full of trepidation and grief as he stares back at you and the individual in his hands with tear-stained eyes, like he has cried all he can.

The thing that you saw him holding was…a young girl. A child. Laying completely limp in his arms.

“…..”