The only sounds auditable in the blizzard was the music flowing out from Slava’s headphones. He usually wore them when traveling with such tremendous weather. The snow slammed into Slava, though he kept walking as if there’s wasnt a snowstorm spiraling around him. The trail was getting gradually more difficult to navigate as he ventured on.

His black hair now littered in snow, and his unnecessarily oversized scarf almost blinding him. Slava shoved his red-tipped hands into the pockets of his jacket in hopes to preserve some body-warmth, though to no avail. He took a few steps forward, at this point, with no sense of coordination left. The white snow tried to push Slava along, nearly knocking him down one to many times.

Slava looks up, squinting. His eyes scan the ground in front of him. A white void, you could say. The blizzard was finally settling, and Slava could sense it. He looked behind him, though his tracks have already been hidden by the snow.

He sighs, and continues on, the little hopes in finding human life or anything that could help him had vanished like the flames on a birthday candle.

A faint ringing noise meets Slava’s ears. He stops, and stands still for a few moments, contemplating wether to attempt to unravel the source of the sound… Or is it all in his head?

Slava takes his earbud out, and his eyes dart around. The ringing noise was only increasing in intensity, and it wasn’t pleasant. He rubbed his ear and took another step forward. The action hadn’t helped either the ringing, and if anything only worsened it. Slava stashed his earbud in his pocket and rubs his ear once again, as if that would do anything.

The blizzard had fallen asleep by now, and a soft blanket had beeen patted down in it’s wake. Very few snowflakes were falling. Everything was hushed in the dark of midnight… midnight..?

The ringing hadn’t stooped, but Slava had temporarily blocked it out as he pondered on about how long he had been walking for, as it was now midnight, and he set out at sunrise. He sighs and the ringing begins again.

He continues his journey, trying to ignore the noise with the sound of soft crunching beneath his boots. Eventually, he ends up covering his ears.

Slava navigates his way through the settled, powder-like, snow, until his boots hit a stone. He looks up. There in front of him is a small cottage. The wood had been painted a strong ted color, though it had faded to a soft crimson. The fence needed mending, and the windows needed a good clean. The only thing that looked as if it had been recently tended to was the garden that grew vegetables and fruits. He looked back to the cottage, which was illuminated with a soft glow thanks to the lanterns hanging from the corners of the porch. The snow had enveloped the front yard and settled snuggly atop the slanted roof, while the snow on the branches of the trees beside the cottage looked as if it were gripping onto its wood for dear life.

Slava pulled up his scarf to his nose as it had fallen slightly and began to walk towards the house. He passed the unmended fence, and the tended-to garden. He stepped up onto the porch and brought his reddened hand to the walls. He immediately pulled back his hands with a widened eyes.

It’s just like his father had described. He looked to the door, then back to the wall. He hesitated before knocking.

After a moment, Slava’s ears twitch from underneath his beanie as he listens to the shuffling behind the door. He watched intently as the door opens and a small women opened the door. Her hair was a ginger color, and her skin was almost as pale as the snow. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, complimenting her features. It was no mistake that she was attractive. She looked up and gave him a warm smile. “Hello.. Can I help you?” She asked, her voice like honey— sweet and smooth.

Slava can’t help but smile back. She was just how his father had outlined!

“Hello… I have been told that you are an alchemist.”

“Yes… I am.”

He tilts his head and pulls his scarf down to reveal his full face.

“May I talk to you?” He asks, his voice hiding hope.

The young women looks confused, but agrees nevertheless.

“I suppose a short chat couldn’t hurt.”

She steps aside, revealing her interior.

“Come in,” she invites. Slava steps in with no hesitation. He quickly takes in the view. There were many, many, bookshelves with an assortment of different genres. There were wooden bowls with herbs in them, and plants placed in every empty cranny, and the overall atmosphere was welcoming, and the sent of books and freshly baked cookies only enhanced the ambiance.