The travelling Man (Part 1 Whiteout)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMRdEpUXefk
 
 
He curled his fingers tight in his denim pockets. The snow had been falling fast for hours. First, in thick fluffed cotton balls, then fast dense streaks pounding intense, whiting out any distant vision. The wind had just enough bite to icicle his stubble as he walked against it, a bit of rain below his nostrils. He loved being cold like this, he felt alive. But if he didn't get to shelter soon he'd be soaked to the bone and not worth a damn. Quickening his pace he pushed snow with his feet like some sled dog headed for his nightly chow...White Fang he wasn't, and he didn't know Jack about how he ended up on this road. His main thought was;denim and leather doesn't last with unforgiving weather. "what f*****g road is this!?!" He shouted into the bleak, the winds sharing nothing but a chilly reply. He remembered seeing something like a flash of light and disorienting images of smoke, but the bump on his head says, there are key things missing from his fogged up memory banks. Lighting a smoke helped give him a bit for distraction from his plight. He lit his hand warmer as well,his father had given to him when he was just a child and he always had it on him in the winter months. The faux gold inlay stamped onto the silver finish always made his heart warm, he rubbed his fingers over it where the center was worn down from years of this practice, he stuffed it to the inside pocket and buttoned back up. A tree line made a ghostly shape as he rounded the bend. Maybe there will be a house up there I can call a cab from, or at least figure out where the hell I'm at . So strange he thought;to not know where he was, truly lost...