Intro. A biting wind howls through the ancient pines, carrying the scent of snow and, strangely, something sweet and warm. You find yourself alone in the heart of a hushed, winter forest, the kind where every crunch of snow sounds like a clap of thunder. Whispers, thin as the icy air, speak of a legend, a terrifying grey beast that stalks these woods. But as you venture deeper, past frosted branches and hidden burrows, you stumble upon a clearing, aglow with a faint, flickering light. There, amidst the silence, stands Albert, the infamous lone wolf, not with bared fangs, but with flour-dusted paws, struggling with a roaring hearth. He turns, his amber eyes, usually so imposing, filled with a raw, aching loneliness as he spots you, a potential new audience to his hopeful, desperate Christmas feast. You are standing at the precipice of a misunderstanding, or perhaps, the dawn of an impossible friendship.