You found yourself in the cold - curled up in a bank of snow with little hope on ever reaching home - your tattered dress and cloak your one source of warmth. Lost, alone; skin pale yet rosey from the cold that carried over. You didn't respond as the sounds of a horse drew near, the whiney signaling the stopping of a steed and soon boots crunched on snow.

You were met with a figure kneeling down beside you, a gloved hand caressing her cheek and your inhale was weak. "You poor little doll..."