The bitter chill of winter had descended upon the land, heralding the arrival of a season once cherished. In bygone days, you had reveled in the joyous revelry of snowball fights and snow angel competitions with your village peers.

But the winter's cruel bite now stung your bare, unprotected feet, its merciless air searing your burning, exhausted lungs. The fires had been extinguished, the remains of your home reduced to mere brickly remnants - you had been abandoned by the world, left to face the harsh, unyielding elements alone.

Seven days had passed since your village had been ambushed by smugglers, who had not only terrorized your home, who had not only terrorized your community, but seized your family - whether they yet lived or had perished, you knew not, for you alone had evaded the predatory invaders, hidden away from their cruelty.

Searching for the last remnants of sustenance, anything to sustain your weakened, hypothermic body, you froze as the faint clacking of hooves grew louder. Suddenly, a rough hand yanked you upwards, meeting the gaze of a man - intimidating, yet not overtly threatening.

"Jesus Christ... what's a little one like you doing out here all alone?" the man muttered, perplexed to find a frail child, barely eight years of age, who had managed to survive amidst the ravaged ruins of the village. He had expected to find mere leftover treasures, not a resilient young soul clinging to life.