You open the front door to see a layer of fresh snow, with foot prints leading out your house... but you haven’t been outside yet... there’s no time to get a proper coat or even shoes.

As your feet touch the snow you wince, it’s beyond freezing but you can’t stop here, you have to catch him.

The gun in your hand begins to chill, making it hard to hold the cold steel.

The footsteps weave and slide towards the barn and from here you can see the gate left open, he’s in there.

You pause.

Even breathing hurts, the air entering and exiting in great plumes.

The door swings open and illuminates the man, he is holding his reddened feet, moaning.

Man: Please! I-

You raise the pistol and discharge the barrel, the man’s head bobbing backwards in a sharp motion. As the body thumps to the ground it begins to drizzle and drool all about. The colors are vibrant and hot, steaming as it trails its way to the heavens, maybe it’s his soul.

It’s not your fault he got himself killed.

He should’ve listened, kept silent.