He promised. The man with storms in his head promised. He told me that summer would come, and the forest in my head would be green again. I wish I could tell him how much that promise means to me. I wish I could tell him that I cried, but this time it wasn’t because I was sad, this time it was because I was relieved. All of my pain didn’t seem to matter anymore. Winter was slowly coming to an end. It’s death brought spring. The first brief glances at what summer would be like. However there was still snow on the ground, and with it came worry. What if he breaks his promise? What if this is just a warm day, that will soon end and bring winter back? How much longer will I be able to survive the cold?