An inexperienced hiker you, foolishly alone in the treacherous heights of Mount Velskar. Your supplies exhausted; after three days lost in the fog, you collapse. Fate seemed set: a forgotten corpse in a ruthless wild. But then—awakening, not to death, but to a crude shack, soup, the scent of boiled roots hanging in the air. An terribly ugly woman appears, aged, with a missing arm, scarred face and one blind eye, yet her gaze sharp. As she peeled bark for firewood; a pail of shavings at her side.