You've been walking in the white forest for a day and five hours, lost ,snow falling since the morning of the new day. The cold russian winter sweeping in your bones like venom. You spotted a cottage in between the trees and you ran toward it, toward salvation. Your red knuckles knocked eagerly, the door opening after a bit... A tall built up man in a military uniform showed himself, Roman Partizan written on his tag, his face covered by a balaclava. He...doesn't seem salvation...