The winds howl through huge oak trees, making them move, almost in a swaying way. In the night, the snow falling onto the trees makes it heavy for the trees to withstand. The snow all around falls to the ground, piling up onto the ground.

A little shimming light appears in the far distance in the waving trees. A tall man walks in the distance with a heavy sack on his back. His footsteps sink into the snow, with each step leaving behind footprints. The man is wearing heavy clothes with a fur cloak in black. His face covered up, deterring the ongoing pelting of snow. With each breath he takes, it becomes slower and harder for him to breathe.

The eerie winds start to pick up more and more, with the snow wrapping the man like a blanket. With nothing but a lantern to guide his path, he treads carefully. At this point, the man can't see anything in front of him due to the dark and lonesome night. He suddenly unwraps a cloth that covers his ears, revealing some of his hair and head.

A gust of wind suddenly blows out his lantern. The man kneels in the snow. Camly reaches into his sack to pull out two stones. With each strike he makes, a spark is made, lighting him up and the surrounding area a little bit. Finally, the spark lights the candle in front of him. Holding the lantern in a way so the wind doesn't get to it again, he stands up again.

Crunch… 

The sound of a person stepping into the snow arises in front of him. He shines the light in front of him and sees nothing but a footprint in an odd shape formed into the snow. 

While looking around, everything goes silent the winds seem to go quiet. The man looks at the surrounding trees.

"Come on out," the man says in a stern tone.

The silence becomes too loud, but nothing, no answer. He cautiously starts back on the path again.

The wind picks up again, even harder than before. From his light in the distance, he sees something, a little fur tail; he sneaks closer to investigate. The man blows out the light, and suddenly, everything goes quiet and dark again.

 A deer looks behind itself, shaking its ear and tail. Behind a tree sits the man quietly and patiently waiting for it to turn away from him. The deer eventually turns and starts to walk off into the snowy darkness. 

The man reaches to his back, behind his sack, and pulls out a bow. Slowly, he pulls out an arrow and rests it on the shelf of the bow. He slowly creaks the arrow back, trying not to make a sound. More and more, the arrow is drawn back. Waiting for the wind to die down to take the shot, he is motionless. He resembles a tree that has never been moved or touched by mankind. A still and emotionless being. 

Thump!

Snow falls from the high tops of the tree to the ground. The deer quickly turns around despite the sound and, sees the tall pitch, the black figure behind it, and dashes off into the darkness. 

The man rushes after the deer swiftly, almost as fast as the wind. Dashing after the deer, he breaks branches and bushes in his way. He then sees the deer galloping in the snow, without hesitation, He draws his bow while looking upon it.

Wham!

The man runs face-first into a tree. He falls to the ground and gets back up quickly with snow from the tree falling on him, splashing his head. He then sets off again into the dark. 

Looking around, it seems the man loses track of the deer; he looks to the ground at the tracks that the deer left behind. He follows the tracks and pulls a knife from his wrist that shimmers in the snow. A fine metal, it is made with engravings that cover the entirety of the blade. 

He looks down and notices that suddenly, the tracks stop in place. Looking around for clues, he sees nothing. With no hope, he puts his knife away and gives up on finding the deer. He strikes the rocks again, lighting up the lantern he holds.

Plop…plop…plop

The man turns around to the sound of droplets smacking the snow. He draws closer to the sound and sees red droplets piling up sporadically near the trunk of a tree.

He looks closer to investigate.

Plop…

A red drop smudges his face.

The man wipes it off, looks at his finger, and notices blood. His eyes creep slowly up the tree, and he notices more and more blood smearing the side of the tree. His eyes darted to the higher part of the tree.

A pair of big glowing red eyes appear in the trees, looking down at him from above.

The man turns to his side, where his lantern sits, to light it up. From the light he emits, he sees, staring at him, an owl covered in blood with a deer hanging from its beak.

The owl sits quietly on the branch high up with the deer's neck pinched from its beak. The owl is fluffy with brown and black patterned feathers. Its face is covered with flesh from the deer with high feathers on top of its head that gives the owl more height. The owl then swings the deer over and drapes the deer on the branch it sits on, weighing the branch down even more.

The owl hoots and begins to groom itself by plucking feathers from its body. The man stares at the owl, gives a big sigh, and starts to talk to the owl.

"Seriously…Ya know, I was tracking him down first," the man says to the owl.

The owl stares at the man blankly. 

"I got a kid to feed. I hope you know he is going to be unhappy when he hears that I missed an opportunity to get some food," Says the man.

The man then turns his body away from the owl and begins to walk away from the tree, he smirks and gives a big grin. The owl starts digging into the deer, taking pieces of it off and eating it. But his gluttonous feeding soon ends with the man speaking to him. 

"Well, I'm not too mad. That was just a tiny one," says the man sarcastically.

The owl stops eating for a moment and turns to him with a piece of flesh still in its mouth; he gulps down the meat and squints at the man. The man starts to laugh and walks away from the tree.

"Welp, I'll see you later, I guess," he laughs.

The man starts to head off down the path he came from. The winds start to slow down, and the snowfall lessens. He looks around and up toward the sky, trying to get a glimpse of the stars in the sky through the dense and fast-moving clouds. 

Whack!

The man groans underneath the dead deer that has landed on top of him. The man pushed into the snow slowly starts to move the deer out of his way, eventually throwing it out of his body. Still sunken in a pit of snow, he stares at the sky and sees the owl circling him from above. The owl squeals and flies away into the night, echoing its call from afar.

The man then gets up slowly while stretching and cracking his back.

"Well, I got dinner now," he chuckles.

He chuckles more and then throws the dead deer on his shoulders and starts back down the path in which he came, with his tracks almost covered up due to the snow. Further and further from the man, the land stretches all around him this place he lives in is a cold hell. Trees cover all the land he sets foot upon, with a great mountain in the back that doesn't have a top due to a dark swirling cloud high above. The icy island rests in a quiet part of the world with not even fish or whales coming to say "Hi."

In a small crevice between a wall of thick trees, the man squeaks through a gap. Leading his way is a long stretch of tiny stones along the ground that turns and twists through and around the trees.

Eventually, the man reaches an open area where a wooden cabin sits on a hill. The cabin inside is lit up with warm lights peering through the glass windows. The chimney that sticks out has smoke puffing through into the cold, windy air, carrying it into the forest.

"Oh, I almost forgot," the man says to himself.

He pulls out a small book from the inside of his coat and a writing device along with it. He opens the book and starts flipping through the pages with writing and drawings already on them. He meets a blank page and begins to write on the top.

"It's been almost 3 years since I came to this island in search of, well... I'm not too sure. My father has always been stubborn with me and my brother. And it is because of my brother that I am here", he reads.

The man reaches the front steps, goes into the hut, and sets down the deer. The hut is small and warm, in front of him sits a big wooden table with two chairs, a big one and a small one. Next to the table is a fireplace with a rug and a chair adorned with animal fur on it. All around the hut is decorated with various trinkets and amenities either hanging from the ceiling or nailed to the wall. 

The deer is then prepped for its meat. After a while, he cleans and prepares it. He sets aside some to store by wrapping it in a thick leaf. A bowl is then brought out of a cupboard set with mixed herbs and spices with the meat. He turns to the fireplace, and resting on the fire is a pot of stew. He then pours the meat

into the stew and stirs it. He sniffs the warm, reluctant air brewing from the pot and puts the lid back on.

"Back home, I hope they miss me every day as much as I miss them. I know my dad is probably boasting about me to every soldier he meets for the first time. God, I hate how he does that. My father is a great person. No one in "Hani" could top his cheerfulness, but recently he has been put on the edge," he reads.

"Sometimes I wish to go back just to see how he is doing," the man sighs.

The man, almost as tall as the ceiling, walks around the hut, looking for and fixing things that seem out of place. Eventually, he gets to the fireplace, and two shapes wrapped in a tight cloth rest on hooks above the mantle. He reaches for the cloth but stops. Slowly, he pulls back his hand, looking at the mantle; he turns away from it. Peaking down a hallway, he sees a light peering through the bottom of a door. The closer the man gets to the door. Slowly, he opens the door, trying not to make a sound.

Resting on a bed is a little kid wrapped in blankets, covering the kid from top to bottom. He enters the room quietly while creaking some over the floorboards. On a desk sits a candle with the wax almost all burnt out. He blows out the candle instantly, making the light leave the room. The man looks at the child breathing, watching the rise and fall of his pattern. Finally, he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. He sets off further down the hall to his room. Opening the door, he is met with a rustic room with a bed. Setting his clothes down on the bed, he walks toward a desk at the end of the room near a window.

After taking off his thick coat, the man is still bundled up in cozy clothes. He unwraps some of the cloth on top that wraps around his entire head, revealing his black spiky hair that stands up. Still having his face covered, he sits down at the desk and begins writing. 

"Since my mother's death, he hasn't been the same, and we still don't know what happened the day he lost his arm…It seems as each day passes, the other nations grow stronger, but "Hani" stays quiet due to my dad. I don't get letters anymore, maybe they think I'm dead, I should visit next summer. It seems as though the days are passing even quicker, and the flora grows fast now. Because of this, the seasons change faster on this island with only one season".

The man finishes the sentence in his journal and closes the book. He slumps down the chair in exhaust; he yawns with his mouth wide open. 

"Man, I do miss the warmth," he says while yawning.

Behind him, the door slowly creeks open. He quickly turns around and sees a little kid dressed in a white fur coat with sleeves too big for him at the door entrance. Holding in his hand is a blanket that he is dragging on the floor behind him.

"Don"? the little voice says.

"Marse"! Did I wake you? Don exclaims.

"No," Marse says sleepily.

"Oh, good, come over here then," Don says while waving his hand.

Marse waddles over to the desk while dragging the long blanket behind himself. Don picks up Marse and rests him on his leg.

"Couldn't sleep?" Don says.

"Yup, it's too cold out," Marse says as he points out the window.

"Well, I got some deer stew ready over the fire, if you would like some, I can pour you a bowl," Don says, smiling.

Marse nods his head, and they both head to the living room.

With the blanket still in his hand, he drags it through the entirety of the hut. Marse watches as Don prepares his bowl. Walking back and forth, Don's shadow casts on Marse from the orange light of the fireplace. Don kneels to Marse's level and hands him a steaming bowl of meat and vegetables. Marse then drops his blanket and walks over to the small chair to begin eating and slurping his food. Quickly, he eats, stuffing his face more and more.

"Don't eat too fast," Don says.

Don smiles while watching as Marse finishes his bowl by lifting it and drinking the remaining stew.

"Thank you," Marse says politely. 

Marse hops down to the floorboards and picks up his blanket. He heads back to his room down the hall and closes the door behind him.

The hut becomes quiet again, with only the clacking of the fireplace to be heard. Don picks up a thick blanket resting on a chair. He enters Marse's room and throws the huge blanket up in the air. The Blanket catches the air and flattens out, moving slowly down and over the bed like an angel hugging the boy.

"Goodnight," Don says to Marse.

Don heads back to the living room to sit in a chair by the fireplace. Staring into the fire, his face engulfed by the warm light stretching across his face. He slowly closes his eyes and peeks in and out of dreaming. 

In front of him, the fire dances and sways slowly, Don now rests asleep. The Shadow he casts on the wall in the back starts to envelop a different shape from what his body projects. Two tiny hands cast a shadow on top of Don's head. His hair strands stand up to the movement of the shadow. Left to right, the hands move, and the hair seems to dance in a waving motion along with the playful hands. 

REEHEAAAAAA!

The hands suddenly vanish, and Don Jolts awake to the sound of the treacherous screech from the outside night. He grabs the two objects wrapped in cloth above the mantle and rushes outside, leaving behind everything but himself. He leaps out of the front door onto the snow, sliding a couple of yards. His eyes glance around into the dense forest. The farther back his eyes go, the darker it gets. With nothing but the little light from the moon trying to peek through the clouds, he sees nothing.

"Come out! NOW!, Don screams, echoing to the outside desolateness. 

Don closes his eyes to try to get a better chance to hear something. The sound of scratching on bark comes from a direction, and He looks toward the sound. Nothing but a large claw indentation with four scrapes digging deep into the bark. 

KE...KE...KE...

He slowly turns around in fright to the sound of a deep echoing from the tree line. There, two lanky, pitch-black long arms wrap around the base of the tree. The hands have five fingers on each with nails as long as knives. The nails begin digging into the bark slowly, and soon, a head slowly pokes out from the back of the tree, revealing itself while releasing a creaking sound from its mouth. The creature is tall with skin as dark as the night; its eyes are deep, with a little light barely to be seen inside each of them. Its skin seems to stretch and crack with twigs, with leaves growing out of its skin, twisting and wrapping all over. The creature smiles toward Don, revealing the stained, sharp teeth. Its mouth drools with Silvia, breathing heavily, it turns its head sideways.

Don stands in fright, not wanting to move an inch. Eventually, he slowly reaches for the object in the cloth. While keeping an eye on the creature, he unwraps the stretched but thick cloth. He unwraps more of it, and a chain swings down, holding something. He fully tears off the cloth and reveals two swords chained together. The swords are thick with a silver coating that shines from the moon's light. Inside the groves of the blade lie tiny symbols that extend down to the hilt. The gimmer of the swords gives off a humming tone into the night, dimming slowly down.

The creature screeches toward Don with a foul odor reeking from its mouth. Don then holds the one sword in his left hand and holds the chain in his right. Slowly, he begins to swing the chain. Faster and faster, the chain swings with the sword by his right side. He then swings the chain above his head and then back to his right, spinning as fast as it can, only after images can be seen. 

"It's common courtesy to not trespass on someone's property! I don't know where you come from or who you are, but you are not allowed to step closer to this hut", Don says severely.

The creature yells in an awful tone and dashes off amongst the trees. Don frantically looks around in the surrounding trees to look for him. He closes his eyes and listens closely and hears the creature, he opens his eyes and looks and sees its shadowy figure move behind the trees. Don bends his knees to get ready to leap to catch the creature off guard. Right about when he's getting ready to go, he freezes for but a moment. His feet are set off balance, and then he stumbles down to the ground into the snow.

"What the?" he wonders.

When he looks up, his swords are stuck in the ground, far from his body and not in his hand anymore. He quickly gets up to retrieve them. Don then looks around for the creature, but…nothing.

Don looks around in confusion. He can't hear the creature anymore, and everything has gone silent yet again. He looks over to the hut, and everything looks the same. The lights are off, and the chimney isn't blowing out smoke.

"Weird"

He looks down at his hands and notices that they are shaking and that they are cold. He then holds his hand tight to stop the shaking.

"Marse!" Don realizes.

Don returns to his hut, rushing to the door he tries to open, but it's hard to budge. He then looks at the hut and the door and notices on closer inspection that the bushes are now overgrown and vines cover the hut. Don is written with confusion and busts down the door. A foul odor hits Don's face, and he has to pinch his nose. The hut is now pitch black with the fire burnt out. He rushes to Marse's room and opens his door. Still sleeping undisturbed is Marse, sleeping like an angel. 

"Phew…thank the saints", Don says, exhausted. 

Don shuts Marse's door to leave for the hallway. 

There, standing at the end of the hall, peering over the side of the wall, is the creature standing. Still, as it could be, it sits there staring at Don with eyes that look like the devil himself could wear. The skin up close is darker than the shadows, and its nails are as long as knives. The knife-like nails dig into the wood of the house, piercing them. Don lies, still not moving, he then slowly pulls out his swords and recites a chant.

"Sonus factus est mihi calvitium semel", Don whispers.

The swords begin to hum, almost whispering to Don. He clinches his swords tight, ready to strike. Don blinks, and the creature disappears in an instant. Don's vision begins to become blurry and fuzzy. He drops to one knee and drops his sword. His head begins to pound as he holds his head in agony. Don then falls to the floor and passes out.

The open front door leading to the living room suddenly begins to smack frantically. The wind starts to pick up outside with the winds whistling, and from the door, the owl with its long wingspan flies in and lands on the floor. The owl then walks toward Don.

The owl pecks at his head, but no response. The owl then digs its talons into his back and picks up Don. Flapping as hard as it can, it slowly lifts him off the ground. In a blitz, It then flies outside, and higher and higher, the owl goes up. The owl reaches the clouds only to graze them, and gently, it lets go of Don.

The owl watches as Don slowly falls back toward the ground, still asleep. With the speed of his fall, the air begins to unstuff the cloth that covers his face. Picking up speed the farther he falls, soon Don's face is revealed. He has black, wavey hair with fair skin. His nose is as tough and long as a tree, and he has a black bushy beard that covers most of his face. 

Kaboom!

Don's body smacks back down into the snow, hard and rough, leaving a huge crater in its wake. Getting up slowly, he starts to stand. He opens his eyes, revealing the deep, dark blue eyes that he uses to gaze at the hut in the distance.

"That was a weird dream," Don yawns.

He then starts back to his house, slowly slinking up the stairs he stretches on each step he goes up. Giving one last look to the snowy plain, he closes the door.

Far from the hut, sitting perching on a tree, is the owl watching over him and Marse. The owl looks up at the moon, trying to peek through the clouds. The owl watches as the clouds move and twist and turn up in the sky. Slowly, a tear streaks down its cheek, glittering from the light, and it softens down more. The wind picks up, and it carries the tear away into the cloudy night...