Sitting on a Piece of rubble we see a young man with grey eyes and white hair struggling to pull something out of his leg, his clothes were ragged and tatterd, revealing an intricate Snowflake pattern on the boy's left chest. He was gritting his teeth while trying to supress a scream.
The snowflake pattern on his chest is a "rune" and it symbolizes winter, and since the boy never knew his parents, he naturaly does not know his name either, so he goes by the name Winter.
"Damn it!"
There was an arrow lodged in his left thigh, he was currently busy trying to fish it out, to no succes... it had barbed point afterall.
And behind him was a trail of blood settling in the snow changing it's colour from white to crimson red and Around him was a vast plain of snowy fields streching as far as the eyes could see.
'Bastards'
'Who could mistake me for a beast?'
As the boy pulled on the crudely crafted arrow, his face contorted in pain. The arrow lodged in his thigh had a rusted tip, if he wanted to keep his leg in good health he would need to seek medical attention as soon as possible.
'As if anyone wold help a rat like me from the ruins.'
A muffled scream escaped from his lips as the tip of the arrow dislodged from his leg, the arrow seems to have mist any important artery's.
He sighed and nonchalantly tossed the arrow behind him and walked towards the ruins of a midieval city, his home. The path towards it was unconventional, since you needed to travers the frozen lake, many poeple fall trough the ice and die of the cold. Ofcourse it would not matter for Winter who simply is'nt able to feel cold for some reason...
'Time to head home.'
He was dead tired... and needed some rest, after all he had been hunting for food in the cold for days, not that the cold bothered him.
'I'll need to come back in a couple of days to get more food... again.'
In the time he was hunting his food supply had been emptied almost instantly to replenish his energy, and then he had to eat what he caught, and then get hungry again. it was a vicious cycle of struggle for food, the most scarce resource in the ruins.
He was gripping a small bag made out of cloth, containing slices of rabbit meat, and some wild herbs. Winter was gonna need to stach this in his hideout back in the Ruins.
After a while of walking trough the plains and birch forests, Winter reached the Frozenlake of Ruin. It was called Frozen lake of Ruin for no particulairly special reason, just because it was close to them. Most people had to go around the lake, not willing to risk their lives to save some time but Winter was in a hurry. he did not need to worry, realy. Winter is lithe and scrawny, so he has no problems walking over the relativly thin ice.
As he made his way over the lake he could hear the eerie crackling noices of ice under his feet, it was not new to him but the fear never let go of his heart. Winter had good survival instincts after all and they had never failed him yet.
yet...
Supressing the fear, he began thinking about living in the Human bastions near the ruins, where poeple were safe and never needed to hunt, or risk their lives for moldy bread. One day he would make it out of this godforsaken place.
'Soon... i hope, this Nightmare end's, every day is a day of pain, and vicous struggle for survival.'
Every person in the Ruined remains the midieval city has dreams of escaping, yet not soul has managed to. It's as if everyone here is chained to it by shackles of fate. The fate of Death. Not immidietly, or sudden, but slow, agonizing, premature and inevitable death.
Everyone dies, but not like they do here.
After Winter was done cursing his luck for being born in the Godforsaken Ruins, he had crossed the river and was finaly able to lay his sights on the Ruins, of witch he has the pleasure of calling his home.
With a bleak expression on his face, he said:
"Home, sweet home..."