The Voyager marched across the winter wasteland. The blizzard roared ferociously as he came upon the bridge leading to the Heart of Ice. But the storm kept him at bay with frost wraiths whispering to him.

“Take the option, go on, try,” they spoke in his ears. The snow all over was  covered in red pills called “Ignors” that made him hallucinate a paradise to get him to become part of the Long Winter. The temptation to feel that rush of peace, rush of clarity, that rush of tranquility the storm never had. Every fiber in his body fought against that old desire; that old habit nearly brought him to The Wolves.

The Voyager ignored the wraiths and pressed on to a nearby train car for shelter. He slid the doors open and when they slammed shut did he hear the noise behind him. He turned and saw another wanderer resting by a fire in the middle of eating canned beans. But he stared at what was sitting next to the wanderer.

The Wanderer followed his gaze to the red pill shining brightly by the campfire. “How long have you been off the pill?”

The Voyager held out his fingers for five. Five days he’s been off this drug of the mind. He’s craved it sever since the fourth day.

The Wanderer laughed at him and held it out to him. “Go on, take it.”

The Voyager found his hand slowly reaching for it but he pulled back. He was so close to the end. He couldn’t lose it all now. The Wolves were not far behind him, waiting outside the storm for him, and they would swallow him whole. The temporary solace will not do. He has to end this storm once and for all. He will brave all to get to the end. He has to. The Family was counting on him. Not just for their sake but his own.

“Good luck, sober.” The Wanderer took the pill, his face was measurably happy, and he left the shelter and lost himself to the storm. The Voyager did not blame the old man. He wanted a way out of the Long Winter too, but he couldn’t be what the red pill made him be.

When the sun came up, he made his way across the bridge and pressed onward.