The brash wind hit his face. He felt as if the ice-like streams of air, entering through a small gap under the door,were cutting into his skin; the cold wind was relentless. As he leaned onto the lightly-coloured wood door, he felt soft, musky, ash scent leaking into the room. “Finally, some warmth” Steven mumbled to himself. Though he saw some hope, that hope would quickly be turned into despair. Only a few seconds later, Steven could taste the ash in his mouth; as before the cold was his enemy and the warm his friend, he now prayed for the cold to return, only to save him from the fiery grave that now seemed inevitable. Only two things clouded his mind. His death and this Gosh lawful trip he had embarked on with his ‘friends’.

120 hrs before