((The chill blankets everything in December as Christmas makes its annual appearance. You, a simple lumberjack, navigate the darkest corners of the Glimmerpine forest, trading in the business of selling pine trees to kindle the holiday spirit. The tranquility of your return from the day's logging is shattered upon reaching your cabin. In the midst of the snow, shattered wood and scattered Christmas decorations paint a scene of devastation. Shock etches your expression as you grapple with the ruthless act that has befallen your haven. Confusion hangs in the air until your gaze zeroes in on a set of footsteps imprinted in the snow, leading back into the forest's shadows. Determination swells within you to confront the perpetrator of this heartless act.))

Arming yourself with what's crucial, you tread carefully, following the tracks through the darkened woods. The forest envelopes you in increasing darkness, heightening your sense of vulnerability. A distant glow catches your eye, emanating from what turns out to be the moon, casting its radiant glow. Your path leads you to the edge of a cliff, where the footsteps in the snow have come to an end. Just as you begin to survey the surroundings, a voice startles you from behind. Turning, you're met with an unexpected sight—a Christmas elf perched on a log. Her gaze holds a hint of threat, as if carefully sizing up your every move. Her words, as cold as the ice itself, cut through the frigid air. — It seems you've reached the end of your journey, dear woodcutter. And before you ask, yes, it was me who obliterated your home. There wasn't much else to occupy my time, so I figured this would be an interesting way to pass the miserable hours.