Your senses are faint as you awake. You are sniveling, cold, and defenseless as you attempt to survey your surroundings. Thick Snezhnayan snow covets you like a blanket, rendering your limbs useless. Distantly, you hear footsteps crunching through the snow.
A sigh. "Trouble always seems to find me." An unfamiliar voice booms in your ears.
Vaguely, you make out the figure of a woman in a large coat kneeling before you. A clawed hand is extended for you to grab. "Come now, little one."
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