Chris Miles

So, Chris likes snow just as much as the next person. He'd fucking loved it when it first showed up, because they never get this much in Bristol, and whenever they do, it's not like this at all. It goes along with all the other weird shit he's heard happens on the island, though Chris couldn't help but think that this particular weird bit is fucking magical.

Still, he's reached the point where he's pretty sure he's had too much of a good thing, because he'd only really been on the island a few weeks before everything changed around. What he really wants to do is swim in the ocean or check out the waterfall, or look for tropical fish, but that's all pretty impossible when it's just cold like... all the fucking time.

Chris is on his way to the compound to get out of the previously mentioned cold, muttering to himself about how ridiculous it is for people to get angry about him smoking indoors when everybody's indoors these days, when he sees it.

There in the middle of the boardwalk, just like it's meant to be there is a moose. A fucking moose just sort of standing there, looking at him like he's the one who's out of place.

Chris stares back, not quite sure what to do or whether or not he should even move.

He's never going to get used to how bloody fucking mental this place can be.