By now Will had been here long enough that he recognised the frantic knocking on the door for what it was: a fellow human, trapped in the white, endless snow, just like him. His hallucinations were too malicious and absurd to disguise themselves as a person in need, at least so far, anyway; the day that happened was the day he'd truly start going insane, his vivid imagination no longer conjuring things based on empathy and experience. He had steadily grown less wary of letting others seek refuge in the cabin he'd found, too. Chances were they stayed the night, and both parties always benefited from having real people to finally talk to again. The day a real predator came by, with the intention of assault and theft, would be the day he'd die and be brought back to life on that cold, hard slab, he supposed. As always, Will would rather help at his own risk.

He doesn't completely put himself in danger, though. The blanket lay discarded on the floor, but the steel poker was still gripped firmly in his hand when he pulled open the door, wary as his eyes met the woman's. She looked genuinely frozen, her clothes in a rather sorry state for the weather, water being the worst enemy in the icy element. A pang of sympathy, and he wordlessly stepped aside to let her in. She may have strayed and ended up here, but she wasn't a stray, he reminded himself. Nobody here was.