Pulcinella walked through the thick snow of Snezhnaya, through a village an avalanche had just hit. No survivors he could see, until he heard a cry. A small child, not bigger than him, sat next to their deceased mother sobbing. Normally Pulcinella would’ve ignored the child, but he felt different with this one. He walked over, trying to get the child’s attention on him instead of the corpse.

“Shh now, poor child. I am here to help, do you wanna get warm? Come here…”