I woke up—snow everywhere, blood, and a dead lynx. There was a wound on the back of my head; the man who ran up called you “His Excellency”—and even addressed you by name and patronymic. But you don’t remember what happened, or why you were called “His Excellency.” You can’t even remember your own name, and everything around you seems wrong—nothing is as it should be. But don’t worry: your hands and feet are intact, your head is working, and your memory will come back. Especially since everyone around keeps saying that the lynx blessed you.