"... But lately with temperatures being colder this time of year than we're used to, this warm air rapidly moving into parts of Park County could lead to a massive snow shower, or even a storm. This means constant, heavy snow that could last until Christmas time. But one thing's for certain, it'll be a very wintry Thanksgiving this year, Louise and David."

"Thank you, Rick, we'll be expecting a blizzard! In other news…"

Eric slurped at his coffee by the sink as he listened to the crackly weather report being broadcast from the small, ancient TV in his living room. It only confirmed what the faceless rangers had told him the previous evening, and what the stirring, morning flurry outside his window was foreshadowing.

The weatherman had said the rapid warm air would bring the snow storm into Park County and thus decorate the streets with festive snowflakes, and attack Eric's secluded mountain cabin with particular vigour. The struggling TV petered off into silence as Eric stared out the window, from the kitchen the distant town was invisible, shielded by conifers. Snow was an inconvenience to some, an expectation for others, but to Eric the snow was a challenge to his way of life. It was an opponent more sinister and relentless (and often more ferocious) than the black bear or mountain lion who once ruled these mountains before Eric came along.

Hunting season was nearly over (for the larger game anyway), which meant Eric had to make the most of the admittedly brave deer who stalked the icy, barren woods until he was prohibited to do so. Up here, hunting wasn't just a hobby or a way to pass the time. His very survival depended on it. Although he did have the occasional head mounted on the wall, most of his kill ended up on his plate. He never grew tired of the meat, he couldn't afford to. He had become integrated into the food chain now, even if the animals weren't entirely aware of this strange new predator.

His neighbours usually perished in the winter, or remained comatose until spring. Eric wasn't weak like them, cowardly like them. He wouldn't admit defeat or hide. Winter may have been cruel, but Eric was cunning. His basic cabin was equipped with a fridge – that thrummed under the strain of a loyal generator – and a pantry that had been difficult to assimilate into the old building, but was essential during the colder months. It was hardly empty, but the impending storm and his inability to see the town through the trees unnerved Eric. He liked the solitude but he wasn't exactly ecstatic at the thought of being trapped here… helpless, starving.

It had been a while since he restocked the fridge and pantry, and he couldn't take chances in an environment like this. If the worst should happen to him it was his responsibility, and in his final, weak moments, he didn't want to have to acknowledge that winter had claimed him because he was too stubborn and obstinate to not go to the store when he had the chance. Before the harsh weather conditions severed any connection to the town below. One winter he had tried to drive into town, the first winter probably. He had attempted to start the frozen pick-up truck for an hour before its frosty body eventually hiccupped back to life. But then he had to find the road that had been smothered by snow, the very snow that was trying to claim his car too. Eric had leapt out of the driver's seat, kicked the truck and yelled in frustration, before leaving it there and trudging back to the cabin as the overcast sky pelted snowflakes that threatened to slice through his eyes.

It was an experience he didn't want to relive. He sighed, dropped his coffee mug in the sink and threw on his jacket. The truck keys jingled in his pocket, and before he headed out the front door he patted the opposite pocket and felt his wallet there.

It felt strange leaving the cabin without his rifle, but he was sure that the presence of one of his guns would only alarm the customers. Yes, he was going to make a rare – and loathed – visit to the store.

Navigating the roads that twisted around the mountain wasn't something that Eric found difficult. The hardest thing was seeing South Park come into view, bobbing above his windshield, above the murky waters of his subconscious. He had never lived in the town proper, but it still reminded him of everything he resented and avoided. Namely, the company of others. People who could hurt you, and judge you, and leave you. As he entered the main street and the sparse, small town traffic he gripped his steering wheel a little tighter, frustration masking dread. He made a turn, and the supermarket and its parking lot were in sight. It was typically empty for a week day morning and he quickly found a space.

Getting out of the truck, he tucked his hands into his pockets, finding some comfort in the thick, woollen lining. The bite of winter was softer down here, more forgiving. As Eric grabbed a free shopping cart he knew the air was the only thing that was going to be forgiving when he entered the store.

The sliding doors chimed, welcoming a new customer. An elderly couple noticed him and fixed their gazes for far too long on him. He didn't respond, but the woman clung a little tighter to her husband's arm and he hurried her along. Eric rolled his eyes when they weren't looking. His large hands gripped the handle of the shopping cart harder than the steering wheel.

He didn't linger, pushing the cart along. The sooner he could get home, the better. He silently went about his shopping, locating the items he needed and grabbing the first thing he saw. He didn't care about brand, or quality, or price. It was all the same, right? And Eric liked consistency, dependability; he didn't care about the finer details.

Still, as innocuous as he tried to be, he attracted the attention of some other shoppers. People who had only heard of him (the mountain man, the loner, the recluse, the weirdo who lives all alone up there), and were now seeing him for the first time. And they would tell their family and friends that they saw him too.

Yes, in the supermarket! Buying bread, and potato chips, and milk! Tons of it in fact! Where do you think he keeps all that food, huh?

Eric felt a little satisfaction that they would never know the answers to their stupid questions. But he was sure that some people there had seen him before, on his last visit however many months ago it was. They just liked to stare, liked to speculate, liked to imagine that Eric was more urban legend than man and that justified their gawking. It was easier for them to pretend that Eric's life wasn't as boring as theirs. When it was, it really was.

If Eric did one day decide to open his mouth, to speak, then he would tell them that. He would tell them that he wasn't so different. He didn't talk differently, and he certainly didn't look differently. Despite his rather impressive height and intimidating build, he looked like a guy you would talk to about the football game at a bar, or go on a first date with to the movies. His uniform of shearling jacket, jeans stained with paint and smattered with sawdust (occasionally animal blood but that washes off easily), and a faded plaid shirt, was one he shared with most guys in this town.

It was his way of thinking that made him different, the way he chose to live. His anonymity from the day he set foot in this town, the mystery surrounding him, was what made him peculiar. But he wasn't born that way. He wasn't born with a desire to escape to the mountains and be alone. He didn't like to remember who he was then, however, saw no point in dwelling. But long ago, far away from South Park, the mountains, and his beloved cabin, he could've been just like everybody else.

After picking up a few tins of coffee (and some hot chocolate on a whim), he headed to the checkout. All the cashiers looked familiar; he had hazy recollections of being pissed off at each one of them at some point, their rude insistence on staring at him as he tried to pay for his groceries. He suppressed the urge to grumble, scanning each checkout until he saw a face he didn't recognise. Somebody new, somebody hopeful. One less person to gawk at him or be mildly scared of him, perhaps? Exhaling bravely he pushed his shopping cart over to the new cashier.

When Eric arrived at the checkout, the new cashier was serving another customer. But while the new guy chatted and scanned the lady's groceries, Eric began emptying his cart and studying this man. He had striking red hair, the first thing Eric noticed. It fell in soft curls, and some skimmed his forehead. He was pale, and his forearms were dotted with freckles, reminders of bold days spent in the sun. He smiled with his teeth a lot, chuckled, and Eric watched his Adam's apple bob in his firm, slender throat. He seemed cute, polite… certainly friendly, it appeared the lady he was serving and the baby in the booster seat of her shopping cart were charmed by him.

"Thank you for shopping with us, ma'am," he said, as she wheeled her shopping cart away. "Have a good day!"

Eric was still unloading his huge amount of groceries onto the cash register.

"Hi!"

The chipper voice startled Eric, and he nearly dropped a bag of flour on his feet. When he looked up, he saw that the cashier was smiling expectantly at him. Red-faced and agitated, Eric offered him a quiet, disobliging grunt in response. The cashier raised his eyebrows, before shrugging flippantly, unaffected as he began to scan Eric's items.

Eric was growing increasingly annoyed by the cashier's surprising attitude. He was used to people acting a certain way around him and this guy had completely discarded all of that. Grimacing to himself, Eric reluctantly stepped closer to the cashier so he could start bagging his groceries.

"So I guess you heard about the storm on the news, huh?"

Eric responded to the question the same way an animal responded to staring down the barrel of his rifle – except maybe a tad more affronted. He looked up at the cashier and saw that expectant look again. He tried not to grit his teeth, but he could feel his fingers aching to make a fist.

"What?" He asked.

"The storm?" The cashier continued. "They say it's going to be the worst one in, like, twenty years. You've got a lot of stuff here, I thought you were maybe stocking up just in case the reports are true, and we're all stuck in our houses until Boxing Day."

Eric didn't know what to say… how long since he had a conversation about the weather with someone who wasn't a ranger? The cashier's eyes darted from the customer looming over him to the crowded cash register.

"Smart move, though," he added. "You're the only customer I've served today who's taking that kind of precaution."

Again, Eric didn't know how to respond. But he absorbed the veiled compliment, and observed the cashier fidget nervously in the silence he hadn't been trained to deal with, and smiled to himself. He spotted the cashier's name tag and saw that it read 'Kyle'.

Kyle must have admitted defeat, for the rest of Eric's shopping was scanned in silence. He smiled at Eric when he bagged the last item.

"Alright, that's…" Kyle paused, snickering sheepishly at the numbers on the screen and scratching the nape of his neck. "205 dollars and fifty cents, sir."

Eric reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, opening it up and pulling out a huge wad of cash. Kyle's eyes widened even further, his sour green irises shrinking as he wordlessly took the money from Eric. The notes were bound together, but Kyle still attempted to count it all out, muttering under his breath as he did.

"D-d-do you want change?" He asked when he had finished.

"Keep it," Eric replied brusquely, trying to fit all the shopping bags in his cart.

"Really?" Kyle acquiesced. "Okay…"

Eric had already taken his cart and walked away when he heard Kyle shout, "Thank you for shopping with us, sir!"

As he walked to his car, put the shopping in the back seat of the truck, and drove home, he couldn't get Kyle out of his head, his thoughts stewing in curiosity and indignation. Nobody had tried to engage with him in conversation like that for years. He had spent decades assuming invisibility, projecting it from his stand-offish demeanour, that it was possible he had started to believe the impossibility he craved. But one talkative cashier had dismantled that façade; one stranger had dragged him back into reality. A reality where he was noticed and visible.

The rangers only told him necessary information in their daily phone calls; Eric didn't even know their names. The conversation he had with those he sold his hides and preserves to at county fairs never progressed beyond purchasing. Compared to Kyle, Eric's customer service in those situations was appalling.

But it wasn't just Kyle's geniality that his brain was content with playing on repeat. His inviting, fearless smile was seared into his mind like that of a movie star's, the absence of doubt he exhibited and his stubborn pursuit to converse with Eric when most wouldn't have was both astonishing and vexing – such a paradoxical reaction to another person was difficult for Eric to rid from his thoughts, to forget about completely.

Still, he needed to continue his routine as normal; preparing for winter was more important than getting hung up on some cute redhead who he was never going to see again (he had shaken his head when disappointment welled up in his chest at such a notion, grabbing his rifle and heading out of the cabin).

But not even acquiring a mountain ram and a mule deer whose antlers he would put on the wall (the rest he would have for dinner), couldn't make him dismiss chatty, persistent, defiant Kyle.

A/N: Thoughts? There'll be a few more chapters to this and they'll be a bit longer than this installment. I'm trying to keep first chapters a little shorter than the rest because they seem more appealing to read. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!