i live in a white world, a quiet, still white world. i have two enemies. one, i’m here merely to feed them and keep them alive. the other, i’m just business; money. i wake up, to find that i’m alone. i lost my mother when i was young, i don’t know where she went. but i learned to hunt and survive on my own. but, what i never learned was how to defend myself. how can i defend myself? i’m not fast on land. i’m not big enough. strong enough. all i can do is cry out, the minute i see that axe being raised, the moment i see those red and orange suits, that strange machine plowing through the snow. my only advantage is that i blend into the snow. my fur can help me, but it can also kill me. so therefore, its my advantage, until i’m caught. when i’m caught, there’s no hope. none for me, or for any of the others. i can hide—but i can’t run. i live in a white world, a cold, quiet, still white world. but its also spotted with red; a disturbed and screaming world. and for what? coats; gloves; scarves; money