When I returned, I knew a fire was necessary. Winter was coming and each day it was getting colder.  My lips were chapped, and the warm sweat under my hat stung against the chilling air.  Each breath created a cold mist, surrounding around my head, fighting the air, whitening my sight, and then dissolving completely.  The sky began to darken, the trees became silhouettes, the cold settled on to the quiet earth.  I threw the pile of wood on the ground and groaned - tired and sore after another day without success.  I had been in the woods for six days now.  Six days I had been lost, and each day these woods grew quieter and more unnerving. My condition was alarming: my food supply was diminished, my clothes were tattered and ripped and faded, my will, my hope was weakened. 
I went to grab my lighter from the tent.  With each flick, sparks jumped from the lighter’s mouth until they finally caught the wood, setting it ablaze. Night had fallen quickly and soundlessly; there was no more I could do today.  The fire was the only light - a dim light - in the infinite silence and overbearing darkness of the black woods.  Each flame danced to the beat of the crackling wood.  I sat still like a statue, paralyzed under the light of the fire.  My brown beard became a warm orange, and my face glowed pink.  Behind me, my shadow stretched long and horrible reaching into the black trees, hiding from the fire’s glow; it danced in synchronicity with the flames. Winter was coming. 
I sat for hours in the fire’s light until my mind finally drifted, and I fell asleep.
When I awoke, the sky appeared bland and white.  The fire was dead, replaced with gray ashes.  The ashes produced a faint wisp of white smoke like from a cigarette.  I craved a cigarette. I stared at my numb hands - what were once red were now drained of color.  My eyes sagged in deep pockets; my feet lost feeling; my skin was raw and rough.  I stood up, searching for excess wood from last night: there was none.  My empty stomach ached, and my heart ached more when I saw the little remaining food I still possessed. 
The snow had started.  When I looked up, the flakes blended behind the white sky.  It isn’t until they touched the ground, leaving a thin dust, that it was recognizable.  I started to walk, for more wood was necessary.  My arms were crossed and my slow futile walk plodded along the trail I followed yesterday.  Before I could process, my foot slipped out from under me and I fell onto my back.  Across the trail, a slick layer of ice covered the earth.  Long sharp icicles hung low from the tall pines.  The snow was now falling so slowly, that each flake seemed to float in midair, watching my movements curiously.  This ice was not here last night.  Forcing myself up, I stepped slowly and cautiously across the slick, each step cracking beneath my foot.
Once I was across the thin ice, I heard a rustle behind me.  My body instantly turned; the bushes were shaking, and briskly, it emerged from the brush.  It was a figure, who stood tall yet skinny and angular.  Its entirety was revealed skin, which was white and intense and bright.  Ice hung from its arms and froze its spiky white hair in varied directions.  The figure was intimidating, yet its coldest parts were its eyes.  They were a terribly dark blue, so fiercely contrasting against their white background.  Without pupils and completely full, they stared into me, sending an instantaneous chill through me and passed me.  It took a step toward me.  Turning and running and sprinting through the trees and along the weak trail, I didn’t fault and continued running even when the woods opened into a wide field.  The snow had increased to a swarm, falling quickly and urgently, and piling abundantly on the ground.  Breaking through the snow, each flake stung my skin and blinded my sight.  My weariness was obstructed by adrenaline.  With each step, I felt the figure reaching, stepping closer to me.  My legs were starting to tire: I had to find a place to rest.  I whisked across the opening until a small shed at the edge of the field came into sight.  I ran to the small structure, forcing myself inside. I flung the door shut and slid down to the ground, my back blocking the door. 
My cheeks were red and my hair was soaked in snow and my breathing was deep and heavy and strong.  The snow continued mercilessly while the wind shook the shed and shook the door. Eventually, my breathing slowed, but the wind would not abate.  Crouched next to the door, my eyes became large and frightful.  My body was motionless as if it was entranced by the shaking of the shed and the wind’s endless howl. 
Abruptly, the wind ceased.  The sudden silence hurt my ears, and my eyes darted around the incredibly small space.  The door behind me became cold and when I quickly crawled away from it, I saw ice forming around the wooden door.  The ice covered the door, and slowly and deliberately inched its way across the ground.  Once the slick ice found me, the cold slithered through my veins like a poison.  The cold was like a snake: it coiled around me and numbed my mind.  Not only my skin and my face, but now my insides and mind hurt tremendously from the cold’s strength.  The shed had frozen and I could barely move. I unsuccessfully reached toward the door when it burst open.
The wind was back and it flew into my face. Snow flooded in and each flake was a tiny dagger.  I tried to open my eyes against the cold wind, but they were forced shut.  I could just make out the slender tall white figure standing in the doorway.  I was on the ground, essentially blinded, but I could still see its eyes - still bright, blue, distinct.  It was upon me in one long stride and wrapped its arms around me.  I tried to scream, but cold had taken my voice and my strength.  I was squeezed and chilled, and I was awfully and exceedingly cold.  Then, it let go, and I collapsed. The room was quiet again.  As my body drifted into unconsciousness, I looked up fearfully, but the figure was gone.  Winter has come.