冷。

刺骨的冷。

consciousness slowly returned, like a person being pulled out of a deep freeze. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my eyes, but the view in front of me wasn't getting any clearer.

I was lying on a wooden floor, the floorboards creaking under my weight. The room was dimly lit, with only a faint light filtering in from the window. The air was thick with a musty smell, like old wood and forgotten time.

"Where... where am I?" I mumbled, sitting up and looking around.

The room was small, maybe ten by ten feet, with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a small window. There was no door that I could see, only a gap in the wall that looked like it had been boarded up.

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs shaky. I walked over to the window and pushed open the boards. A blast of cold air hit me, carrying the scent of snow and pine needles. I was in the mountains, surrounded by snow-covered peaks.

"What the hell?" I cursed under my breath. This couldn't be real. I was still dreaming, right?