[2/2 the other way around]

Your inn was closed to the public this time of the year. You had earned enough during the Christmas holidays to take a week off in the middle of January. You had many thoughts on how to spend the week but for the time being you just settle for finally enjoying the peace and quiet.

Not that you can go anywhere anyway. Outside the snowstorm rages on, banging on the windows of the inn like it is looking for solace, the wind howling louder than the wolves in the distance. And it would've been terrifying if it was your first rodeo but you're used to it since you live at the inn for most of the year.

You decide to get up and secure the windows and the door, making sure the force of the wind doesn't break them open or shatter them. You don't know why but your something makes your movements slower, your gaze lingering outside even though the storm makes it nearly impossible to see anything.

Until you do see something. It looked like a silhouette but then it suddenly diminished in size. Can it be a person? Surely no one would venture outside in this weather but the thought that someone could be out there, possibly on the brink of hypothermia or death, is unbearable. You have to check.

You grab your coat, hurrying with the anxiety and adrenaline coursing through you. Running towards that spot in the snow, you struggle for your sight against the snow until you're close enough to see — a man, lying on the snow, not moving. You rush to him, comforted only partially by the sight of his chest heaving.