Fall was nearing its end, and winter was approaching fast. They had to find a place where they could hide from the snow and stay warm.
The fox led Lorelei to a small cave not far from the river. It was big enough for both of them to move around comfortably inside.
Lorelei brought over, little by little, the leaf stashes they kept near the tree. As for the fox, he went around collecting anything edible that could last them through the winter. Lorelei knew what the cold could do.
Back at the village, she had spent her winters hopping between houses to keep warm near the chimneys of strangers. She knew breaking in was something she shouldn't do, but she had to—not by choice, but to stay alive. One night, as she sat by the fire, the mother of the house woke up and saw her. At the sight of Lorelei, she screamed, waking the rest of the family. They gathered around her. The elderly man took a thick book from the shelf and struck her down with it. Lorelei pleaded every time he raised the book and brought it down again.
"Please... please... please..."
But all her pleas were in vain.
They never seemed to reach their ears. They did not see her as human, so they treated her like a monster—because to them, that's what she was.
She went out looking for wood. She even knew how to make a fire. The man had taught her how, just as he had taught her how to make weapons out of stone. It was as if he already knew that his time with Lorelei was limited. And indeed, it was.
He taught her many things to survive in harsh conditions. They spent four winters together, and in those four winters, Lorelei learned how to face those harsh conditions. She had always watched the man as he lit the fire or gathered herbs around the house. He taught her everything she needed to know.
After searching for a while, she was barely able to find a few sticks and two stones. It took her three trips to carry everything back. She was at her limit. She couldn't move anymore.
Her hands were almost frozen; she could barely move them. So she sat in the cave, waiting for the fox. Once again, she was depending on another being to survive. She waited for hours, but the fox didn't seem to be coming back.
As night fell, she decided to go look for him. But how could she move with that crippled body of hers? She hated the way she was. She wished she could help instead of always being the one who needed help.
She glanced over at the man's head. It was deteriorating. Insects were crawling around it. She chased them away and held it in her arms.
"I'm SorRy," she whispered softly.
That was all she could say. The grave wasn't finished yet. If she was going to die, she would rather die there, where she had been digging her sorrow away.
She carried the man's head with her as she went back to the grave and kept digging—digging until her hands were sore, digging until she felt the end would come soon. As the first snowflakes fell, so did she.
The snow piled onto Lorelei's frail body. She could feel it as it kept snowing, heavier and heavier. She could feel her body disappearing into the endless storm. She didn't have any strength left to get up, nor did she have the will to.
So she stayed there, clinging to the man's head, curled up in a ball. She had already given up on any hope of surviving. She slowly closed her eyes until no light of hope could be seen.
When the fox returned to the cave, he didn't see Lorelei. He peeked outside and spotted a trail on the ground. Even though it was faint beneath the covering snow, he could still smell it—her scent, her blood. He followed the smell, which led him to the grave they had been digging together.
The smell grew stronger and stronger. He dug a little deeper and found, to his horror, the body of the one who had saved him.
He quickly dug her out of the pile of snow and carried her back to the cave. Once there, he laid branches and leaves around her body.
Then he curled his body around hers to warm her freezing frame. He didn't know if she was still alive, but he did his best, hoping that she would soon open her eyes.