Lost. I was lost. Lost in the middle of winter, in a forest. I did not know how or why I was there, but all I knew was that I was lost. The cold really hurts, but it was not just the cold, it was also the wind, the snow, all being blown into my face. I crawled. Slowly but surely, not even knowing where I was going. Yet as time went on, I was weary, and weariness became sickness, and sickness became pain. And it was pain that made me black out.

I woke to a flickering oil lamp. I was in a room. A log cabin. It had the bed I was on, a bookshelf with a framed picture, and a small wooden desk that someone was sitting on. He was most likely younger than I was, but it was hard to tell, under layers of fur coats and jackets, along with gloves, goggles, a mask, and a pair of torn leather boots. He stared, but didn’t speak. I greeted him, but there was no response. I sat up, expecting something. He looked, stood up and motioned for me to follow him outside. 

He led me to a lake and gave me a fishing pole. I accepted and sat down with him in the snow. That was our meal for the day, and for many days after. The days crawled, with me taking occasional walks outside, crunching the snow beneath my feet. He was generous, giving me food, clothes, and shelter. Yet I didn’t know where I was, but that no longer bothered me. At least I was still alive. I couldn’t imagine what my friends or family thought, not knowing where I was, yet I didn't know either.

However, on the ninth day, he took me to a different place, to a trunk that was covered in at least a foot of snow. I helped him brush off the snow revealing a white paint coat splattered with cracked and brown mud. The door creaked when I opened it and the insides were torn. I got in the passenger seat and he started to drive. The engine muffled all the other sounds. He often looked in the mirror at me, just slightly. Where we were going, I did not know, just like how I didn’t know where from. 

After many long hours traveling, he slowed the truck down and got off. I followed suit. He walked to a bridge in front of us in a clearing. He pointed. I could just about make out a building in the distance, as the snow was easing. I nodded. He nodded, and then said the only words I have ever heard from him, “A life for a life.” And with that, he climbed over the railing and jumped off. I reached after him but it was too late. He fell and I looked away. Moments later, there was a small splash in the cold river. 

I looked out again, thinking, then sighed, got on the truck, and drove away.