He could walk, but he decided not to. He could move, but he decided not to. He could cry, shout, or scream for help, but he decided not to. Why would he? He had already given up. He lay there, as the blood flowing out of him stained the pure white snow, asking himself as to why any of this had happened. He stared at the sky, waiting for himself to die, but right before he did.... in a small, almost whisper-like voice... "I...I still want to live!" And this, is where his journey first began.