Deep in the snow-covered mountains, I stumbled upon something unexpected—a long-abandoned but perfectly intact log cabin. Surrounded by towering pines and buried under a thick blanket of snow, the cabin looked like a forgotten relic of the past. With nightfall approaching and the cold intensifying, it became the perfect winter shelter.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I stepped inside. Dust coated the floor, and cobwebs clung to the corners, but the structure was solid. The windows were intact, and the roof had withstood years of harsh winters. Most importantly, there was a fireplace—a rare stroke of luck in the wilderness.
Before settling in, I reinforced the cabin’s insulation by blocking drafts with spare clothing and gear. Then, I gathered firewood from the surrounding area, breaking apart fallen branches and using a few logs stacked outside. With the strike of a ferro rod, flames crackled to life, casting warmth and light throughout the cabin.
As the wind howled outside and snow continued to fall, I cooked a warm meal over the fire and settled in for the night. The silence of the mountains, broken only by the crackling wood and the distant sounds of nature, was both eerie and peaceful.
By morning, the storm had passed, and the world outside was covered in untouched snow. The cabin had been a perfect refuge, a reminder of how nature provides when you know where to look. I left it as I found it, wondering about those who had built it and hoping it would remain standing for the next weary traveler seeking shelter in the mountains.
