The old man reached over and brushed the snowflakes from his shoes. He straightened his back and gave his coat a quick tug. It was colder than he thought. The sun was still high in the sky and there was no breeze beening carried across the plain. The brightness of the light that reflected from the snow gave an illusion of warmth. Carefully and poised he began to make his way North, back towards his hut. He carried a large sack on his back full of twigs and broken tree trunks, cut small.

                The plain soon gave rise to thickets and eerie dead trees. The old man wondered if he would be able find rabbits in the undergrowth, but he didn’t stop to inspect the brambles for life. He knew that most living things had found it difficult to survive such a long winter and any that did had fled close to human settlements where it was guaranteed to be warmer, even if it was just a little.

                After many twists and turns through the thicket he found the muddy trail that wormed its way through over roots, back to his hut. Fresh tracks seeped into the ground. Scavengers had passed by not so long ago but he followed the trail without a second thought.

                A thin whisper of smoke drifted from the woods in front of him. His tiny lean-too hut had been propped up against a huge oak tree that remarkably still managed to hold onto most of its leaves. The Old man dropped his sack to the ground and drew for breath. He wasn’t as young as he used to be and hauling back bits of wood had not done him any favours. Even so, he bent down and took up his wooden axe which lay against his hut.

                With too much concentration on the wood and the axe he was holding, the old man hardly heard the stranger approach.

                “Could you tell me where the village is?” said the stranger softly.

                He jumped violently, nearly dropping the axe on his foot, but managed to regain his grip.

                He turned to face the stranger. ”Where you never taught not to sneak up on people like that?!” He demanded. A line of dirt ran across his face as he bared crooked teeth at the Stranger.

                 The stranger smiled, down casting his graze.

                “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve seen other person.” He looked the old man in the eye. “I was wondering if you could help.” His voice has deep and masculine, but it had a strange, soothing effect on the old man.

                 He dropped his axe to the floor gently and sighed, embarrassed at his earlier outburst.

                “It’s just a mistake friend,” he said, “If you continue past my hut, there’s a little frozen stream – its shallow and frozen enough so you’ll have no problems crossing it. Once you’ve done that go up the hill and over the pasture. You’ll find the frozen canal there. Follow it North.”

                 The stranger smiled graciously and bowed his head. “Thank you”.

                 As he turned to leave the Old man began to fully comprehend the stranger before him. He found him oddly dressed – a long tan coat stopped above his knees, immaculate and neatly buttoned. His pants free of any creases and his shoes, shiny and new. He wore no scarf, gloves or hat fit for the weather. His hair as black as coal and his eyes a dark brown, like that of the oak tree that stood behind the old man.

                “Who are you?” he called out. The Stranger stopped and turned again to the old man with dirt across his face.

                “A seeker,” he replied.