A loud gasp escaped from Mark's quivering lips which is as cold as the air that's trying to suppress the poor boy's respiration. He's all buried under a thick coat of frozen snow, only leaving his head out, enough for him to make it out alive fortunately.
Where am I? - the most popular question from people who wakes up in a strange place. And it happened just the same for Mark.
His eyes started flickering after the many hours he was left there to die. He found himself surrounded by trees and only towering woods, let alone the white snow covering everything in his sight.
His chest moved up and down, expanding and shrinking, while he sucks air for his dear life and made him regret for taking the air for granted before.
After he calmed himself and had gotten up from the bed of deadly snow, he scanned the place around which made him realize one that seemed will matter for the rest of his life.
And that is his mind, empty of memories.
Each time he tries to think about it, nothing comes up in his head if whoever he is. He felt completely blank like an empty shell.
He can't remember anything: how he ended up in the forest of only freezing snow, if why he's alone, and more many questions that could pop out. A mixture of shock, confusion, and lost on his face is the only thing he can draw from inside him. The tears streaming down on his face gave him a little warmth, and so he managed of crying more. His heart is sinking down, anyway, might as well let it all out, he thought.
But it was only when he heard something else, not the rustles of the frozen leaves of trees nor the cool wind whispering lonesome into his ear, but something else. Yet he can't tell where it is possibly from.
He stopped himself from moving, although he's only leaning against a tree and barely doing anything, just to hear the sound if it will ever repeat.
Oh! And he's right, the same sound was to be heard again. Alarmed, his head shot up into the dense air when he stood abruptly, and regretted afterwards when the cold wind ran to his face. He searched for the source of that noise and would keep his self still to hear it again seconds after seconds.
At the end, after crossing the floors of white specks of frost, his eyes glow over such excitement just as an old tree house appeared in his sight and took his breath away.
But the thought of following a sound didn't leave his head even once, though the surprise is already great.
Nothing would be more clearer than what he found though-the source of the noise is actually produced by the door of the tree house, as the mad wind kept it constantly banging.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Mark mimicked innocently.
Still overwhelmed, he gathered up braveness under his sleeves before climbing the seemingly abandoned tree house. Sting would send him wincing as he hold on to the worn-out ladder with sharp, icy steps. But he had endured it and just focused on not falling, since he fears heights the most.
But out of nowhere, in a place where everything is frozen, how can he smell a scent of something burning?
Ah finally! Mark's face lit up, from pale grey by the torturing weather to rosy pink because of the sudden warmth inside the tree house. The tree house welcomed him wonderfully.
He should be shocked and confused why there's a newly set fire at the middle of the small place, knowing that somebody else might just wandering around the same place before his arrival. But he's too cold to wonder yet, he really needs to get warm beside the fire.
He's never been this so happy as he runs toward the fire secured inside a metal barrel. He placed his hands above the dancing smoke, and in every time he felt his skin heated, a pleasuring shiver would crawl up to his body. The pain, uneasiness, and the feeling of being lost vanished just by a ghost of an innocent smile started playing on his lips.
After he's completely warmed up, he's scanning his new surroundings with a clueless look and humming to a tune when his eyes landed on an unusual object - no, it's definitely familiar. He's sure of seeing it before - before he forgot everything.
Mark's hand shifted to get the paper stuck on the metal barrel. Then his eyes widened again, as his mouth is agape, becoming much surprised than the earlier things.
Let's play a game, Mark.
He felt a heavy tug on his heart, and the feeling is very familiar like he had known this trouble before he woke up clueless. There's a lingering sensation after he read the note, inside a part of him feels like he did it just like this one. What do you call it?
Ah! Deja vu! Mark remembered the term.
He flipped the paper, looking for more message and actually there is. At the back, there's an old photo of seven boys yet their faces are scribbled, covered from black ink.
Mark's eyes narrowed at the picture, still not recognizing their body figures. If he still got his memories, he could guess them who is who just in a split second.
Below the photo, there is another messy hand-written note...
Are you ready?
