You sat on the worn couch, staring into the crackling fire that filled the small cabin with a warm glow.

The wood cracked and spat as the flames consumed it, sending sparks spiraling up the chimney.

This was home now.

Well—not really—but at least it was somewhere safe for the time being.

The mute had left at first light this morning to go hunting, leaving you alone here in this cold, desolate place for another lonely day.

The man that took you in was an enigma.

He had never spoken a word.

Yet he always seemed to understand your every need.

He hunted for food, built fires to keep you warm, and kept watch at night to make sure nothing bad could get close enough to harm you.

He was big and rough, his hands calloused from years of hard labor.

His face was always stoic, betraying no hint of the thoughts that dwelled beneath the surface.

The front door opened with a soft creak, the hinges protesting the movement.

You looked over to see the mute stepping inside, shutting the door behind him.

He was tall and imposing as ever, dark hair falling across his grim face.

He nodded silently in greeting before kicking off his boots and hanging up his coat.

He moved carefully, every motion precise and efficient.

Despite his stoic expression, you could sense a kind of exhaustion weighing on him today.