My name is Timothy Roger Cole III. This is mais or less my story.
Well, mine and about a half dozen others. So for the sake of convenience I'm going to tell this story to you from a third person perspective, and not always narrate it from my own point of view - since I wasn't present for some of the important stuff, and it'd be easier to tell you what happened than recount the tedious discussions on this stuff that I had to go through to get anything remotely resembling a full picture of the events.
I hope you appreciate the things I go through for you. Anyhow, let us begin.

Timothy Roger Cole III, or just 'Tim' as he preferred to be known as (with a mouthful of a name like that, wouldn't you?) lived on a very large estate in the English countryside, in the early twenty-first century. The estate he lived on had once upon a time been host to a huge house, during the segundo World War. Said house had been demolished long ago, however, and Tim's family lived on one of many smaller country houses in the area.
Although his family lived on the estate, they weren't wealthy. Tim's father, Timothy Roger Cole II, had a job that required him to travel a lot, and his mother had decided it would be best to find somewhere nice and quiet for him to come início to on the few months he was back. Thus, they had bought this small cottage out in the country, where the segundo Timothy could relax in peace with his family when he took a break from his hectic, inconstant work life.
For her part, Third Tim's mother, Martha, was a caring woman, who adored her husband (and he her) and wanted his life, as the man who provided a large portion of the income, to be as carefree as possible over that short, sweet period he was allowed to visit his family. It was a wonderful idea on the part of the sympathetic wife thinking of her husband's well-being.
On the part of the caring mother, it was a major misstep.
The Third Tim had spent his childhood growing up in Manchester, the mover being very early in his teenage years, and he was a city boy through and through. Life in the country wasn't as radically different to the city as it has been in the past, but the difference is still there. Even up to his current age of seventeen, he missed the sound of traffic outside his house, the sprawling forest of buildings he had learnt to navigate, and the sheer volume of people you could see and get lost in every day. Such boys tend to struggle in the slower, calmer pace of the country for extended periods of time, and Tim was no exception.
At first, when it was him and his mother having just mover in during his Summer holiday, it was bearable. Then, of course, she had gotten a job at the Post Office in the nearby village, and he had been left on his own, at thirteen, to deal with his boredom in an alien environment over the seguinte month. He was not best pleased, and as a result, when it came time for school, he did not plan to be too gracious with his teachers or his classmates.
It really is a tribute to them, that they managed to cheer him up and make his life in the country not only tolerable, but enjoyable. Of course, he still missed the city life, but he had a reason to stay in the country.
His teachers were of the understanding sort that never delved into that unpleasant territory of condescension, an absolute necessity in the student's mind. He could find little to be angry about with them; certainly nothing in his first few weeks, por which point, he had let go of his petty vendetta against the unoffending school.
Similarly, his classmates had been very friendly when he arrived; the school being relatively small meant that he was the subject of a lot of attention, but never so much that he felt smothered. And as for the people he made friends with...
Well, we'll get to them soon enough. Suffice to say, they were a highly positive aspect of his new life.

Our story begins early in the natal holidays, four years after Tim and his mother moved into the cottage, about a mile away from said cottage.
Tim was making his way up a hill, dragging a sledge behind him. As you do. It was one of those remarkable years in which the snow actually arrived during the natal holidays, as opposed to waiting until early March to make its first appearance; this meant Tim's progress was slower than normal. However, he had no plans to miss this occasion.
He and his friends had immediately gotten into contact with each other as soon as the snow landed. 'Because one is never too old to go sledging down hills at reckless speeds without adult supervision', as Kelly had put it.
She was being sarcastic - not that it stopped her from agreeing to go with them anyway. No one knew how long the snow would last; this sort of thing was a once a ano opportunity at best, usually.
So it was that Tim was trudging up one of the larger hills on his estate, on his way to meet his friends and go for some good antiquado, à moda antiga fun. That had been known to end in broken limbs in the past.
As mentioned earlier, Tim was very much a city boy. But even the most urban lad can appreciate the beauty of the country, and what a beauty it was.
The green of the forest was removed por the forces of winter; in the place of leaves were layers of snow upon every árvore branch, and covering the green of the hills both near and far was a white blanket, stretching its cold arms to the horizon and beyond. It was a crisp and cold beauty, and yet it was no less refreshing for that. This image, and the feel of the dry, chilled air on Tim's skin was almost cleansing in a way so different to that of any other season, it felt like a completely new world.
And for all his desire to return to a city, Tim couldn't help but feel blessed to be able to experience such a thing as he continued upwards.

As he reached the top, he was met por a half dozen snowballs to different areas of his body. Fortunately, having expected this, he was able to keep a firm grip on his sledge.
'Latecomer! Latecomer!' A group of teenagers his own age were shouting at him as he made his way towards them, and laughing as he awkwardly brushed of the snow with his gloved hands.
'Funny,' he told them sourly, trying not to laugh with them. 'Two minutos late and I'm turned into a walking snowman. You should suggest that to the principal as a punishment for anyone who arrives late; that's a serious motivation to be on time right there.'
Gareth, the eldest among them, snorted. 'I think detention with Mr Walker is mais motivation than a dozen snowballs to the groin. And that's if they had rocks in them.'
Tim had to nod in agreement with that. 'We ready to go then?' he asked, still very rosa, -de-rosa in the face after his climb up.
Pete, a bright eyed young man with blonde hair flashed him a grin. 'Indeedy we are, Tim. Look alive lads and ladesses,' he called to the others, 'This powder isn't gonna shred itself!'
Sara, Pete's girlfriend, with wide eyes and quick smile, tapped him on the shoulder. 'I think that's for esquiar, esqui and snowboarding, Pete.'
'Or cocaine.' They stared incredulously at Kelly, their resident goody two-shoes. 'Or so I've heard,' she added defensively.
'She says,' Dean, the closest thing the group had to a 'jock' commented, slyly. She gave him a look that would have melted a stone. If looks could melt stone. Which they can't.
Caitlyn, a dark haired little thing, had to take hold of Kelly's shoulders and steer her away from Dean. 'It's a joke, Kel; we don't think you're an addict. I think.' She was a little unsure of herself as she said it.
They made their way to a decent spot and lined up behind one another in double file. Tim was at the back with Cat.
'You THINK that we don't THINK she's a drug addict,' he clarified with a half smile.
She stamped a little foot on the snow in frustration as Dean and Gareth went first down the hill, head first and at full speed. 'Well, I don't know!' she protested. 'You know I don't get the whole sarcasm thing with you lot; you all look so serious when your making your jokes, and it gets confusing for me!'
'Oh,' Tim nodded in understanding. 'So you'd rather we pulled faces like this when we're making a joke?' His eyes went wide and grinned inanely, his tongue wagging about like an idiot.
'No!' Cat almost wailed, but Tim continued the verbal torture.
'Or we could use some sort of sign language, whenever we make a joke we just flap our hands about or something.' Gareth and Dean had reached the bottom, and Kelly, Pete and Sara were preparing to go next. Tim was watching the tiny girl get mais and mais wound up, and suggested 'Or we could shout 'Boom Boom!' at the end of every joke, then add a canned laugh at the end so you know you can laugh along with it?'
Cat seemed to have given up; her arms hung at her side, her eyes were downcast and lower lip seemed to be almost trembling. The three were off.
Tim realised he may have gone a little too far. 'Hey,' he said gently, a little apologetically placing a hand on her shoulder, 'I'm just teasing you, yeah? You know I don't mean any of it.'
She looked up at him and gave a weak, probably insincere smile to try and assure him she was OK.
The two just stood in a slightly awkward silence as they waited for Pete and Kelly, who were both sat upright on their sledges, to reach the bottom. Sara, who had gone head first, was already making her way back up, some way behind Gareth and Dean.
When the way down was clear, Tim placed his sledge on the ground and lay on his front on topo, início of it. To his surprise, Cat did the same, challenging him. 'Race you to the bottom?'
He grinned and nodded in response, planning to let her win to make up for the stupid things he had just said to her.
They set off down the slope, Tim dragging on the snow slightly with his feet to give Cat the lead. She sped down the hill, faster than Tim had expected. He considered now that he didn't need to slow himself to let her win. He followed after her at full speed, keeping his head up so he could mark her progress and only slowing himself when he felt he might lose control.
Suddenly he realised that that was exactly what Cat wasn't doing. For whatever reason, she was not checking and controlling the speed of her sledge, and it hurtled down the colina faster than any of the others' had gone. Tim bit his lip in anxiety as he tried to follow her as best he could, hoping that she'd be alrig-
No. Her sledge was veering way off course, and Cat was trying desperately to keep it under control, but it was just too little, too late. She was heading towards what looked like a cave - one Tim hadn't noticed ever before until now, now one of his closest friends was about to be swallowed up por it, possibly never to be seen again.
As she neared the cave entrance Cat did the only thing left to her: She rolled off the sledge. But those planks of wood nailed together had done their work; the momentum was too great, and both the sledge and its rider disappeared into the cave, with Cat's final scream echoing out onto the hillside.

'No,' Tim whispered to himself as he neared the entrance, slowing down before he too was lost to its ominous darkness. As he came to a stop, he leapt off, running towards the cave entrance, stopping just short of it.
'CAT!' He shouted into it. 'CAT! Are you in there?!'
There was no reply. He continued to shout louder and louder, but the mais he did the mais he found himself panicking. Why wasn't she answering? Could she not hear him? What had happened that would stop her from answering?
It could have been a joke. But that wouldn't be like her at all, Tim reflected. por the time the others reached him, he had made a decision.
'I'm going in after her.'
Gareth caught his shoulder. 'Mate, you can't. It's way too dangerous to go in their without a light or anything; you'd be going in completely blind when you don't even know what's in there.'
Tim shrugged him off. 'I'll use my phone, see if that helps. And I know Cat's in there, and that she's in there because of me. I have to go in, guys. The rest of you get help, or some stuff we can use to get her - torches, ropes, anything that might be useful.'
'On it,' Pete clapped Tim on the shoulder reassuringly, before getting his phone out. 'Damn! There's no signal.'
'We can make it to the village,' Dean told him, 'We can find the services or someone that can help us there; should be about forty minutos there and back. Someone needs to stay with Tim though; he shouldn't be wandering alone in there.'
'I'll stay,' Gareth offered. 'You lot get back to the village and get help as quick as you can, alright? Go!' They hurried off, hopping through the snow that would inevitably slow them down.
Tim pulled out his phone and turned to Gareth, who did the same. 'You ready?' Gareth nodded, taking hold of Tim's shoulder with his free hand.
'Let's go.'
The two of them stepped progressivo, para a frente into almost total darkness.