By the time Lucian came to his senses again, his hands were normal, and so were his feet. It was as if he was never in the snow. Of course, he was fully naked, and he rushed to gather his pants and put them on.

The cabin was tiny. It was circular in shape, and had a pit in the middle where wood was burned to make fire. Someone had brought him in, and done something to him to make him almost new again.

Lucian opened the door slightly and closed it just as fast as he had opened it. A raging snowstorm almost forced itself inside if he was a second slower. Who lives here, and where did they go in this weather?

With nothing to do, Lucian sat and closed his eyes by the fire. His body was still very weak. The recent events had all happened so fast from his execution to being saved, to being thrown out again. All of it was a blur.

Here he was now, stuck in a small cabin in the middle of an endless land covered by snow and ice. Lucian let out a little laugh. If there was something bigger out there, he could not see it. From his eyes, only misery followed him. The moments of happiness he felt with Aric and Mortis were fleeting memories now. They were gone.

He was alone again.

Slowly, Lucian’s eyes began to drift, and he fell asleep.

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Lucian woke to the sound of the door creaking open. His waking eyes saw a figure, heavily cloaked with fur coats that slipped inside. The snowstorm outside roared briefly before the door closed, plunging the cabin back into an eerie quiet.

The figure approached the fire, never glancing at Lucian. A gloved hand extended, tossing more wood into the flames. Sparks flew, and the fire roared back to life, casting long, flickering shadows.

Lucian sat up, his heart pounding. He wanted to speak but couldn't find his voice. The figure moved with deliberate calmness, placing a bowl of steaming liquid beside him before retreating to the opposite side of the cabin.

The figure's face remained hidden in the shadows, only the occasional glint of eyes visible. Lucian took the bowl, the warmth seeping into his fingers. He drank, the broth filling him with a strange, comforting heat.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Lucian's mind raced with questions, but the figure's presence demanded quiet.

The cloaked stranger finally turned toward Lucian, the firelight catching the edge of their hood. A single, soft whisper broke the silence, "Rest."

Then, as quietly as they had entered, the figure stood and moved to a small cot in the corner, lying down without another word. Lucian watched, a mix of gratitude and unease swirling within him.

The fire crackled softly, and Lucian's eyes grew heavy again. His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were of the mysterious figure who had saved him, and the strange fate that had brought him here.

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The next time he woke, Lucian was fully rested, or as much as he could be.

He saw him now. An old thin man, stripped to his bare essential clothes. His beard was brown but with the colors of old slowly outrooting them. The man noticed Lucian get up, and he acknowledged him. He nudged his head towards some leftover broth, but Lucian shook his head no, and just sat by the fire.

“T-t- thank you,” Lucian said, his voice coming back.

The man stared at him.

“Uh,” Lucian continued. “Where is this?”

The man pointed to the edge of the cabin, where his fur coats sat.

“Wear those,” he said.

Lucian crawled over to them and felt the thick warm texture. They were heavy but he could feel the warmth emanating from them.

“What about you?” he asked back to the man.

The old man got up and opened the door and stuck his head outside as if to check something.

“Must go now! Hurry,” he said.

Lucian rushed and wrapped himself up in the undergarments, which were thin but felt warm, and threw the heavy fur coat on him. A nose wrap was attached to the hood which he slipped on. Some boots were on the ground that he slipped his feet into. The man ran to him quickly and pushed him outside.

“Go now, straight, and over the mountains! Keep walking forward,” he screamed over the hissing of the wind and snow.

Lucian stumbled out of the cabin, and saw the giant mountain that ran in front of him. The snowstorm was bad, but not as bad as it was before. Perhaps that was the reason he had pushed Lucian out so quickly. With one last look at the cabin, he began the trek to climb the mountains.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Jagged rocks and hidden surprises at every corner that he walked into injured Lucian quite a bit. If not for his healing factor, he might have been dead before he ever got to the top of the mountain. He fell off the bottom slope a few times, but kept climbing it, finding the patterns in the weirdly shaped mountain.

The man was not specific on what he should look for or anything, just to go over and straight. Though the directions were simple, Lucian did not know where he was going to. For all he knew, it could be somewhere worse, but what choice did he have? Plus, the man seemed trustworthy if he let Lucian take his clothes and feed him.

Up and over, under and through, the mountain top got closer and closer until all it took was one more long stride and one hop until Lucian was at the top.

Lucian sighed as he oversaw what was beyond the mountains. It was just what he expected. More empty land covered by endless snow.

The man did say to keep going forward, he thought as he descended the other side of the mountain.

The climb down was much quicker and less arduous than the climb up. It was getting closer to dusk when he traversed the road forward, seemingly towards a place that never seemed to appear.

His stomach was grumbling. Although the broth was good, he needed energy that was not just liquid.

Forward. Forward. Forward.

A few more hours passed until he was completely exhausted. Though the exhaustion set in, he was not surrounded by nothingness any longer. To his left were great trees. There were no leaves on them, but there they stood, tall, and strong. Lucian was about to keep walking forward, when he heard something.

A rustling sound, like footsteps. He quickly scanned the woods, and saw nothing.

Strange.

He wanted to proceed onwards, but curiosity got the better of him and Lucian slowly crept towards the forest, and made his way inside. It did not take him long to figure out what he had heard. In front of him, white as snow, and coated by majestic fur, stood a white stag. It was munching on some shrubs that seemed to be unphased by the cold and snow.

What a beautiful animal, Lucian thought as his stomach kept grumbling.

Pity would not keep him alive, and who knew how long he had till he reached the place the man told him to go towards.

Closing his eyes, Lucian conjured up a little ball of flame. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw that he was still able to do magic. He crouched around and moved about the trees, getting close enough to the stag to see its neck. When he felt confident, Lucian flicked the fireball at the neck, and it caught on fire.

The white stag frantically started to cry out in a horrifying and chilling manner. Shivers ran down his spine as the stag jumped and tried to extinguish the fire in the snow, but Lucian knew it would not happen. Slowly, the head was burned to a crisp and the stag lay lifeless on the snow. Lucian approached it, and dug his hands into the belly of the stag and ripped out some meat. He made another fireball and took a branch to light it. Once it was lit, the meat was warmed over the fire, and he ate it. He took some in his pockets in case he needed it later.

As he left, Lucian looked at the white stag, or whatever was left of it.

Forward. Keep moving forward.

The night crept up like a thief, and the light of the sun faded. The new light of the stars shone and guided him forward. To pass time, he would try to make constellations out of random clusters of stars, or even throw a snowball and run after it.

Oftentimes, he would stop himself and wonder why he was being playful. He remembered he would play snowball fights, but with who? He could not remember being close to anyone his age enough to play with them. Was this another memory that he fabricated just to cope with everything? He had been doing that a lot recently. Dreams of a life he never lived, and people he never met. It was heightened by the cold and the sense of desolation.

Lucian’s journey finally came to a halt when he saw a cabin, no a house, in front of him. It was not isolated, but close to a cluster of houses. Outside were wells and buckets. No lights could be seen through any of the windows. Not a single soul outside for him to speak to.

Since he made it here this far, and presumably, this is the place the man was pointing him to, it would be wise to just knock and find out what he needed to.

He walked up to the doors of a house, and softly knocked a few times. No response.

He went to another house and no response.

Is there no one inside?

Lucian tried a few more doors, but none opened. He turned back towards where he came from just to lay on the walls of the house until dawn, when there might be people here, but saw someone watching him from the side walls of a house. He quickly ran towards them, and whoever it was got frightened and ran back inside.

Panting, he knocked on that house, and said, “I am lost, please, I mean no harm. An old man behind the mountains sent me here, please.”

Lucian kept pleading, and the door slowly opened. He backed off, and a pair of eyes scanned him. He put his hands up to show no malice, and the door fully opened. A lanky man with a braided beard stepped outside and spoke.

“Strip,” he said.

“What?”

“I said strip,” he repeated.

Lucian, seemingly confused by this, shook his head no.

The man nodded his head, and headed back inside to lock the doors, but Lucian stopped him.

“Please, why?” he questioned. Lucian dug into his pockets in both the coat and pants to show him that he had nothing.

A soft voice from behind the man spoke, “Papa, who is he? Is he gonna hurt us?”

“No, and didn’t I tell not to be lurking outside! Go back to bed,” he scolded.

Lucian stood, still pleading. The man sighed, went back in and put on a coat, and got back out.

“Come,” he said leading Lucian towards a maze of houses.

“Where are we going?” Lucian questioned.

The man appeared annoyed so Lucian did not press further.

Finally, they both stopped by a house that was larger than the rest. It was built like the rest of them, wooden and strong, but there was a sign on the front which read, “Chief.”

“Stand here,” the man said.

He took out a pair of keys and unlocked the doors. He went inside, and did not come out for around ten minutes. When he returned, an old woman holding a cane and a thin garment stood by the door.

“Come in,” she said hoarsely.