Schuyler took a deep breath of the crisp New England air, wrapping her fingers around her warm coffee mug. The riot of fall colors was somewhat subdued this early in the morning, and swirls of fog hovered over the surface of the lake. The sun was as-yet merely hinting at rising.

It was a very snowy day, depressing and bleak, when we had our first fateful encounter. His name was Jacob, and he wore a long, black coat which contrasted strikingly against the otherwise white world around us. I asked him what he was doing out in such a terrible storm.