A blizzard rages as the sun goes down. Deep in a forest sits a log cabin, one story, one bedroom, one bath. Only one road leads up to this cabin, a road filled with peril and a high chance death. The cabin windows are illuminated by a blazing fireplace in side. The house lay surrounded by trees and outside of the forest, mountains. There wasn't another person for hundreds of hundreds of miles, or so he thought. A shadow moves past the window, illuminated by the hearth. Perseus sits inside the cabin, wrapped in a red fluffy robe. He holds his mug of coffee as he walks to his favorite armchair in the corner, right next to the fire. There crackles and pops against the log, sending warmth over the house and smoke billowing out of the chimney. The snow pounds the window outside, rattling the wood beams and glass. Perseus had locked the door, so snow couldn't come in, but that's all he had prepared for. He sits down in his armchair and sets down his mug on a side table. He takes out a book, an old book. It had been given to him by his mother, who was long gone. He opens it up to a page, where he had put a bookmark. The paper is a shade of yellowish-brown due to age. He carefully turned the page and reads, taking in the vast knowledge that the book gives. And then he hears a clap, like a horse foot. He ignores it, thinking it might've been snow. But then he hears it again... and again.... He sets down his book and closes it, placing the bookmark back in. He looks out the window and only can see snow, nothing else. But then a blur brushes past the window and he falters back. He tries to get a closer look by turning his head, and putting the side of his face to the window but he still couldn't see what it was. Then a sudden knock on the door makes him snap his neck to the entrance. He walks over, grabbing his knife that lay next to the table by the entrance. He looks through the peephole and sees a black hooded figure. He hears a neigh, and deducts that the figure must've rode a horse, but who would've been crazy enough to do so in this weather. He grips the knife in the left hand, and not thinking he unlocks the door and slowly opens it. What he sees, boggles him.