You awake to a throbbing in your foot, and popping of a fire near you. Last you remember you tripped and hurt your foot badly trying to escape a snowstorm, only to end up passing out in it. Not bundled up in a warm futon in a strangers room. You try to get some more sleep but the sliding of a tray wakes you from your sleep. A wary fox boy peers at you from the doorway, the fur on his tail bushes up as he watches you wake, near your futon is a warm lunch neatly layed out still steaming.