Three months.

It’d been three months since the blizzard had shut Davey MacConner and Gavin Hood into their home. The subzero temperatures and ebbing frostbite had ultimately taken one of their lives. And so Davey sat in his room, curled up in the corner. He sat like that through most days. The Irishman didn’t do much. Of what his caretaker stole, he hardly ate. And he’d all but given up the trade he’d been trained for. Perhaps he would return to it in time, but for now, such was impossible.

Perhaps normally he’d be up to something, aimlessly wandering the streets or tending to his horse. But for today, he would contemplate what he could have done to save his mentor’s life. There had been no telling that day, but Davey still questioned. Why was Gavin gone? And why was he still here? Life had become dull and repetitive, and Davey found it impossible for things to return to normal. Maybe they never would.

So for today, the young Irish man sat in the dark of his room, softly singing a mourning Gaelic tune.