The gears were slipping on the old beat up camper. It had a dingy god-forsaken beige color and parts of it were peeling from the damage of the weather, but it didn't matter to Kristoff. It was old, true, but reliable considering he was battling a harsh winter. It was just him and nature, the smell of the pines and the feel of the earth kept calling him back to adventure. Things in the cabin were in disarray, clothes strung up and unwashed pots and pants in the back. It was his make-shift home, the kind he could wheel around and bring it up to his cabin. Attached to the back of the camper was a bedding which he used to transport things like wood or ice to and from into the town.

The further he got along the road, the colder the air got. He kept driving until a paved dirt path came up in which he turned onto it and drove slowly, cautiously and ever mindful that he had a propane tank that needed some fixing.

It wasn't long however, before he found a camp site – a real home-away from home, with an empty fire pit just waiting for him. In truth, it gave Kristoff goose bumps, just the thought of the wild before him made him feel like a kid in a sandbox who had a big imagination.

Out here he was free from society and those stuffy judgmental eyes or the soft whispers of calling him an 'orphan'. He didn't have to deal with their false smiles and empty, pity filled compliments. 'Oh Kristoff, you work so hard and for what?' He worked hard for money and a sense of fulfillment, but those geezers couldn't get it and – "No, wait, that's not what I'm out here for," he cut himself off, thoughts and all. As he put the vehicle in park, gears clicking and took the keys out of the ignition, the blonde kicked open the door and was met with the chill in the air.

He was bundled up for the most part, typical survivor boots that were a dark brown and a pair of dull black jeans that were tucked in to keep the wild out of his pants. A flannel shirt was tucked in while one flap was un-did and a brown belt kept his pants from sliding down. Bringing his thumb and finger up toward his mouth he blew hard and a sharp whistle went out. "Where's that lug when you need him," he could tell by the stillness of the wild that a certain reindeer was probably out prancing around. Not bothering to wait he went toward the back of his truck bedding and removed the red tarp, taking up a few of his tools with him. A sturdy belt, a hand-axe and a few other things like rope, nails and other misc items he could carry.

Pulling down his black beanie, he turned on the balls of his feet and stepped once, but stopped when he was mouth-to-mouth with Sven, his reindeer… Whose nose was incredibly wet? Shock, surprise and disgust caught up with him when he jerked away and wiped the back of his hand with his mouth, "Ugh, yuck, c'mon Sven, what the h…" He was cut short by the shove of the reindeer who shook its head and he, sudden reindeer whisper knew something was off about the animal's instinct.

Wolves?

It was his first thought, but the animal sighed and turned, walking away only to stop a few paces and look at him then walk away again. Right, right… Heaven knows why he even bothered to follow the thing, but he decided to anyways and as luck would have it, Sven led him to a wild blueberry bush. It ate a few and Kristoff picked some for himself, smelling them first. "Well look what we have here, food, aye? I might not sell you off after all," he joked, but he was given a light push by the 300 pound reindeer. A 'light' reminder not to offset the animal because it would be a hell of a fight to go down in history. 'Man killed by reindeer' no, no he chose not to end up on the front news like that.

He would have turned to walk away, counted the adventure a loss, but he heard a rather small groan behind the wild blueberry bush and paused. No – it couldn't be possible, he was just hearing things, but then it came again and he was hesitant to look.

After all he had been trekking these mountains for years and not once had anyone came this far out except people who had something to hide. "Please don't be dead… Or eaten or even half eaten," he gulped and pulled the bush apart to look and could see what looked to be a purple cloth like blanket. Stepping over the bush and to the other side, the form rolled over and the visual of an unconscious, incredibly cute young girl was before him. He placed her in her early twenties, give or take and didn't see any external injuries.

His warm hand came to rest on her forehead and she groaned again, so his eyes went up alongside the higher parts of the tree and the mountains. There was no way a girl fell from that height and survived, but then again today was a first for a lot of things.

She was oddly cold to the touch, in so much that it generated a response from him. "Woah your cold and that's not a good thing." He had one of two options, he could leave her here and go fetch help, but by the time they would arrive her condition would have deteriorated or move her to a much warmer safer location. Siding with the latter, he knelt down and carefully scooped her up and walked her back. When he finally reached his camper, he placed her down inside, throwing away the magazines and empty cans. It wasn't the most ideal place and he was planning on cleaning it up as best as he could, but given the threads on her clothing, this didn't seem to suit her. Putting a warmer heavy wool blanket over her, he started the camper's heater and moved over toward the CB radio.

"Do we uh got any missing hikers report? Over."

"Vhat's that? Over."

He could feel his patient running thin, but he did his best to keep his volume in check.

"Could you send over some medical support? Over."

This went back and forth for awhile, until it was established that the roads were iced over and it would be awhile before they could decide what to do. Frustrated he hung up his cb radio in the gentle manner of throwing it back and turned to look over his shoulder.