It could be a sound, a smell, or the temperature and humidity of a passing breeze. Whatever it is, it evokes a memory so strong that the world before your eyes fades from view and becomes replaced by the vision of memory.

And there you are. The cold soaks into you, soaks into you bones, even through the many layers of clothes you are wearing. The snow falls softly but steadily around you, and the thick layer that has built up around you and on top of you actually feels warm, like a blanket, compared to the chill inside you. You've been lying here, still, for so long that your muscles throb, and it is the only thing you feel in them besides the cold. You want to stand up, stretch your body, and move about. Your instincts scream at you to feel the warm blood moving in your legs. But even though ever fiber of your being rails against it, you don't move. Because you know - if you move, you die.