Every now and then, the weather displays its unique trait of turning impossible odds into reality. This is what had occurred in the past hour. The biting cold, instead of nibbling, tore chunks off him, hungry for any and all heat he held. The howling wind now roared, turning every snowflake into a needle flying through the air with the sole purpose of slicing the lone traveler, their numbers blanketing the world in a cloudy whiteness.

But the traveler was equally relentless. Nothing stopped him. Not even his trail of small ephemeral blood drops. Every step - or rather shuffle - he took with the conviction of a man not willing to let this be his end. Each breath he took with the conviction of a man still wanting to squeeze more out of life. However, no matter the resilience of a man, all men must eventually fall, and Academ Levedi, deep in the crevices of his heart, knew this. It just wouldn’t be now. Not without...

He didn’t know if he was on the right path; there was nothing to guide him, and even if there was, his vision had blurred, despite the best effort of his goggles. According to his map, which he had last checked six hours ago, he should have reached the town by now. However, in this weather, he could have walked right through the town, down its main street, without noticing. Another tree brushed him as he passed. A surprise since he had long lost any feeling in his arms and legs. A thought pierced his mind, “Was he going in circles… then this would be his end, wouldn’t it?"

“Academ Levedi, conquered by his most trivial expedition,” is what his tombstone would read. Family and friends huddled around it, crying and sobbing. At least the cold would bring a merciful and honorable death. And if he was never found, then nobody would be able to guess how he really died and his family would get silver; his family needed the money more than they needed his dead body. As time passed and the storm grew in fury, this pleasant thought brought warmth to the Academ’s mind.

An hour passed, or maybe only a handful of minutes. It was hard to be certain. During this time, while the weather had not eased, the Academ’s strength most certainly had.

A sudden convulsion, in the Academ’s left leg, tripped him, and he toppled into the snow. Immediately, his strength came back as he tried to claw his way up, but the more he struggled, the deeper he sank. Snow getting caught in his clothes. His right glove ripped off in this fight. But slowly, his energy depleted. And the weight of the world grew. And like everything caught in the blizzard, his body finally came to rest. Only his heavy breathing reminded him that he was not dead. As the wind continued to howl and snow continued to fall, a small wintry layer began to grow on top of him, absorbing the Academ into his final home.

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“Looks like frostbite and a missing body case. I guess not the worst end-”

Suddenly, a faint sound echoed. The sound of a wooded gate or door cracking against its frame. Once. Twice. Thrice. And so on in a rhythmic pattern.

“No. No. Not yet. Just a little bit more.”

A rush of energy came into the Academ, as he located the source of the sound and began crawling. It was so close. The knocking became louder. A door of a house or shop or farm. A place with other people. If he could get their attention, then he would-

The knocking stopped. And, just as it had begun, it had stopped, and the woods were quiet once more. Hope, which had come so quick, disappeared just as quickly.

Moments passed as the Academ laid with his own thoughts, remnants of his strength still rushing through his body. Scene of his life flashing before him. Was he good? Was he bad? Actually, it was sort of funny. A month ago when he started his journey, he didn't think he would end up dead in the cold, and as a matter of fact, it probably wasn’t until three hours ago - or one, or rather, was it five hours ago when he checked his map last - nevertheless, it was then that the possibility of a frozen death first crossed his mind. Until then, he had just expected life to work out in one way or another and lead him to a meaningful fairytale ending. But in the end, that was nothing other than wishful thinking.

Precisely as he gave up once more, the knocking returned. Once. Twice. Thrice. No, it wasn’t wishful thinking! All acceptance of his fate vanished with its return. This time, he would not fail. With his last surge of energy, he managed to stand up and shuffle towards the noise. His hat blew off, but he ignored it; he wouldn’t need it, one way or another. Another spasm popped up, this time in his right leg, making every step feel like his last. His gasps for air became harder by the second, as he fought to give his body the strength it desperately needed. Still he struggled. Then through the slurry of wind and snow, he finally saw a boy beside a small wooden cottage, its door slamming against the frame due to the wind. In the boy’s hand was some firewood that he was carrying to his house from a pile a few steps away. The Academ stumbled forward. This was it. This was his hope. The boy got to his house and caught the jerking door with his feet. The Academ tried to scream, but only mouthfuls of blood came out. The boy entered his home and the knocking of the door stopped.

He was so close. A Levedi couldn’t give in now. He moved forward, but his feet didn’t, and he fell face first into the snow. Still, the man refused to accept death, not when he was right next to a place of shelter. It wasn’t guaranteed the boy would help him, but he had to try. He had to. And so, he crawled. His skin feeling strangely warm, every part of his body becoming heavier to move, and each breath of his coming out softer and softer…

Was he even getting closer?