General Winter slammed the heavy oak door closed, sliding the bolt and barring the door as the Byelorussian girl charged towards him. Her delicate body hit the door was a slam, and she let out a cry of pain, sliding to the ground. A cruel smirk tugged at his features, and he folded his arms, standing like a sturdy wall just behind the door.
Natalya beat the door with her fists, her platinum blonde hair shining in the moonlight. The stars twinkled merrily, as her wails of protest filled the still night air. She lived with her siblings in a corner of the town, where many shan't venture unless they valued their life. Hours passed, and both Natalya and General Winter stayed in the same place. Natalya's fingers were bloodied and frozen, slowly, ever so slowly, growing colder and colder. She let out a shuddering sigh, drawing her coat around her and curing up on the soft snow. She tucked her hands in her pockets, hissing in pain at her finger's tenderness, and closed her eyes.
Twelve hours later, she opened her eyes to find herself in a strange bedroom with a handsome stranger staring at her, his cerulean blue eyes piercing her own dark navy ones.