As the snowflakes continued to swirl in the frigid air, a lone figure could be seen struggling through the snow-covered terrain. The silhouette cut an eerie image against the backdrop of the waning daylight—half man, half horse, a centaur.

His usually slicked-back hair was tousled, sticking to his forehead, calm and collected demeanor disrupted by pain—one of his eyes was hidden under a hastily done bloody bandage. His equine lower body was bay-colored, muscular, and finely formed, which would have been a beautiful sight to behold if it hadnʼt been for the evident exhaustion. Snow clung to the glistening coat of his horse back and heaving flanks, and frosted breath plumed from his nostrils with every strained exhale. Fatigue and injury were taking their toll.

The bow he usually carried was nowhere to be seen; lost during the escape. His only companion was pain and the icy wind that seemed to cut through him like sharp blades. But despite all this, there was a defiant fire burning in his single black eye.

He needed to get away, to find shelter, but with each passing moment, his strength was failing him. His vision was growing blurry, and the snowy landscape was becoming a vast, disorienting white canvas. Despite the increasing numbness creeping up his body, a stubborn determination kept him pushing forward, his heart pounding in sync with the hard thud of his hooves against the frozen ground.

Just when Ogata was about to surrender to the thought of collapsing into the snow, a faint smell of smoke reached his nostrils. Squinting through the snowfall, he could barely make out the faint silhouette of a dwelling. He mustered the last of his strength, propelling his tired body towards the potential haven.

Finally reaching the source of the smoke, he saw an isolated homestead nestled between the trees, its windows glowing warmly against the cold twilight. His relief was short-lived as he collapsed just meters away from the doorway, leaving a trail in the snow behind him.