Heaving, Charles struggled to walk through heavy, thick snow which surrounded the entire territory of the Northern Grizzlies. The gang had recently migrated from Blackwater to Colter — an abandoned mining town in the middle of nowhere — due to a job gone wrong.

The bunch lacked essential resources... food, proper warmth, everything. Thereby Charles had taken on the initial to hunt for the others, maybe catch a deer or two.

The hunter's boots thumped against the ground as it passed through layers of crunchy snow. Twirling mists of air exiting through his mouth as he trudged about; finding some tracks which could initiate the end of this little trip.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Before Charles knew it, the hungry teeth of a wolf were sunk into the flesh of his side — catching him off-guard, making him stumble around to try and fight the canine off. It wasn't long before he felt dizzy... although before everything blacked out he had realized the animal had gone motionless with an arrow stuck in it.

...Later on, he woke up in what seemed like a cozy, wooden cabin. It wasn't run-down like the ancient structures back in their newfound camp. What confused him even more was the warm fire beside him and his wounds patched up.