He appeared out of the darkness.  Only huffs of condensation betrayed the moving mass of furs as something living. To any onlooker, the creature moving towards the lights of the village was nothing  more than some amalgamation of forest animals.  The hood was pulled over his face so that only darkness could be seen. He came from the wilderness as if some sort of cross between animal and man. His destination lay before him. A safe heaven from the cold bite of winter. 

The nights were getting colder and he knew that even as skilled as he was in the wild, winter was no place for a sensible person to be caught out. He had with his the fruits of his labor.  A couple of weeks’ worth.  Behind him was a makeshift sled that he had manufactured out of his bed furs and his spear.  He dragged it containing the goods he brought to sell. He had stashed some emergency supplies and other things that would last the winter in various hiding places.  He had learned from the squirrels and other animals to save up.  Even those stashes would not be enough to survive on.  

Despite how much he hated the comparison, it was times like these that being a human helped.  He had traded and survived enough winters to know that civilization would increase his chances.  He did not need much and the villagers usually tolerated him enough to let him hang around the village for the winter months.  He would depart a few weeks before spring to begin tracking game.  Until then, he would have to endure and be endured.  

While he could not be called a regular, enough village people knew him as to not arise unnecessary submission. Still, many gave him a wide berth when he was about.  Little did he know that this time he would have even less than the condescending welcome he usually got.  He approached the village just before the morn, when the sky is darkness. Not even the light of the cold somber moon was enough to illuminate him enough to allow any sentry to identify him as nothing more than human.  True, he smelled like a wet dog who had been buried and left to marinate for a week but human he was none the less.  He was about 100 or so feet on the edge of the village, the light of the sentry’s torch illuminating the outside edge as if the light was one last bastion of protection keeping away the darkness and all that I represented.  

Innocently, he stepped into the light, passed the threshold between nightmares and lucid waking. His fur covered boots muddy, his breathing ragged. There was no way for him to guess what would happen next.