The voice is different, accented and Françoise feels strangely curious and less afraid. She grips the cold iron handle and tugs gently on the door, trying to free it from the hold the cold and ice has over it. One more tug releases it and, propelled by the weight of the woman's body leaning against it from outside, it flies open sending a blast of cold air into the room. Françoise hops back in surprise. A bundle of limbs and snow rolls into the cabin and Françoise creeps over to the stranger, bending over and peering into her face for a sign of life. The woman is visibly out of breath and gasps heavily for air. She turns her head as Françoise comes into view and puffs a sigh of relief, smiling.
      "Ah! Merci mademoiselle."
      A swell of relief grows inside Françoise's stomach and she extends her hand asking, "Are you hurt?"
      "No, I'm alright," comes the reply in a thick, French accent. She takes hold of the outstretched hand and pulls herself up, grasping at the doorframe with the other to steady her balance. Snow falls from her jacket as her body straightens and she continues, "My car got stuck out the near the main road. I saw the smoke from the cabin and I thought this would be my best chance."
      Françoise ushers her inside and towards the fireplace, pushing the door closed as the visitor steps robot-like in her frozen clothes. Her hair is crisp with ice and as they near the heat of the fire the silvery sheen on her jacket turns liquid. The icicles that form glistening braids in her hair begin dripping, covering her bright pink cheeks and soaking her head.
      "I'll get you a towel so you can dry off," offers Françoise, and disappears into the kitchen. The stranger nods, regaining a more regular pattern of breathing, and begins to pull at the zip of her jacket with swollen fingers.
      "I didn't walk too far but I kept falling over in the deep snow." She speaks in a raised voice, explaining her short but arduous journey from her car to the cabin. She finally manages to undo the zip and begins to wrestle herself free, peering around the room to get her bearings. Françoise returns, towel in hand, with a concerned look on her face. She isn't quite sure what to do or say and finds herself feeling lost. She never has guests in her cabin and is overcome with helplessness, feeling like a child left alone for the first time. The stranger's face is flushed and her hair bedraggled. When at last she removes the coat, they see that the remaining layers of clothing are wet through and clinging to her body.
      "I'll get you some dry clothes to put on," she says.
      "Thank you Françoise. That's very kind"