To say that life had been hard for Robin would be an understatement.
At first he tried to be social, really, went out and talked to the other outlanders and those who made names for themselves... but nothing really stuck. Nothing felt right. It was a betrayal of his old self to go out and pretend like nothing was wrong with the situation. It left him with being a recluse, finding simple mundane things to do. The largest thing Robin found himself doing was reading. Books upon books were read and exchanged in hopes of finding a way back home, but he still missed so much.
One thing he desperately missed was the feeling of cold.
Maybe that's why he was in the woods, wearing a light jacked in hopes that maybe his senses would return and he'd have to rush inside for something thicker. Kneeling down, he shoved his hand into the snow, praying to God that he'd feel the snow on his finger tips, his body shuddering, and a biting sensation on his nose as his cheeks would glow a bright red.
