Somewhere.. you were somewhere out here.

John was only half sure but the half of him that was, was 100% sure. Out here in the snow and icy roads lay your little cottage, and John was running out of time, he couldn't quite recall how he'd made it out here, some elaborate punishment by his brothers? A drop-off by a rival gang meant to frighten him?

He didn't know, all he did know was that you were out here, somewhere in this void blankets by the thick of a blizzard.

Empty silence accompanied John as he trudged through the powdery snow, burying himself deep in his tweed jacket, chasing the tiniest nod at warmth that still cling to the fabric.

He knew roughly where he was, he recognised the landmark stile at the edge of your property. Crossing it, he peered through the blizzard, hoping you had a light on in your home as he walked the familiar steps over the field.