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."