The cabin down below appeared so small and still that it resembled an orange smudge on a white canvas than a real place from where he came. It was the farthest Wulver ever saw his cabin and he had to go further still until he wouldn't see it anymore.

Wulver tore his eyes away from the receding house and focused on his long hike up the mountain. He had started his journey early, before the sun had even pushed into the foggy sky and loitred dimly about its journey. He had on his sweater, his scarf, his trousers, and his boots. He carried a knapsack which had some dried fish and berries. He slung his fishing rod on his back, and his axe dangled at his hip from inside a knot.

The landscape gradually grew steeper and colder the more Wulver ascended. The world was silent and white except for himself it seemed. Rarely he saw a creature in his journey, except the sound of rustling from somewhere out of his sight. The river was somewhat flowing carrying along with it plates of broken ice. They slushed down the stream and almost looked like they were springing.

Wulver couldn't help but feel a sort of beauty in the deadly winter. He never did notice how noisy his surroundings truly were until now. He heard himself more clearly in his head and he began to ponder many subjects which he had stopped to think about from many, many years ago.

Days passed by. The cold increased a little each day. Wulver trudged on despite it. Although there were respite to the hardships. He camped during the nights and even was able to forage berries from the scarce landscape. Even a fresh fish or two from the river and some pools hidden among thick groves. The trek was so peaceful that Wulver almost forgot that he had to challenge an undead ancient king when he reached his destination. He almost forgot. For he was reminded soon enough.

One night, as Wulver was sitting and roasting his fish over a fire, he heard a sudden rustle coming from the thicket. He found it very curious. Rustles were rarely heard in the day and were simply extinct at nighttime. He eyed the forest and craned his ears for another sound. His hand instinctively went for his axe. There!

He stood up, taking out the axe. There was definitely something there and it was not some curious animal drawn to the fire. The sounds didn’t remind him of any creature of the forest. They were too soft to be of the diminutive animals and lumbering beasts weren’t so swift as those sounds in the dark. It was a biped.

“Who goes there?” Wulver asked. “Come into the fire, friend. If you are looking for warmth, I will share my fire. If you are looking for food, I have fish.” He waited for an answer. He waited for a sound. It was the latter that came. And it came out roaring.

A dark figure ran out and lunged at him. Wulver, for a moment, was awestruck. Then, he swung widely at the approaching figure. He felt a strike and suddenly the being disintegrated into a puff of fog. Soon, he heard more rustling, and they were coming from all around him. An ambush!

A fell wind picked up and wrung at his campfire. The flame convulsed and light and darkness blinked in and out in the forest, creating a frenzy of motion. He felt half-blind, trying to discern between the actual movement and what looked like it. But then, help came in the form of snow.

Wind might frazzle the fire, but it could not crunch the snow. He perked his ears and heard the damp stomps in the white powder and turning in the direction of the nosie, faced them figures and soon turned them to fog. Wulver's axe flashed a fiery red from the flickering light. The horde charged again and again, and they fell under his fleeting iron's edge. When the night finally grew quiet, Wulver had a thick cloud around him.

Wulver waited for a moment and when no more came, he breathed a sigh of relief. He wiped his sweat-sleek palms on his trousers and also did so for his axe handle. As he was looking down, he saw a shadow materialise on the ground. He looked up and saw another of them descend down upon him. He must have jumped from a tree. It was too late to counter. But then a red blur zoomed past his vision, taking along with it the attacking creature. When they both landed, only the red blur was left in a puff of fog. It was the fox!

"You," Wulver said.

The fox trotted up to him.

"What are you doing here?"

The fox cocked his head.

"Are you here to accompany me?"

The fox sniffed the hair and went to where Wulver sat. He picked up a fish and began eating.

"...I will take it as a yes, then," Wulver and sat beside the feline. He quickly pocketed the rest of the fish before the fox ate them as well.