A cold wind sweeps past again as if it intends to pierce right through your face. No, it wasn't just once. It never stops, and there was no time to even think about it.

He walks today as well, treading through the snow. Is he irritated? Of course he is. There's no need to hide it anymore. There are no people, no targets, and no reason to be quiet.

But then, he stops abruptly.

The sound of human footsteps filtering through the howling wind.

A person? Is it a person? He thinks to himself that there's no way, and tries to walk... no, he ends up running toward the source of the sound.

He looks strangely excited.