It had to be Russia.
The one wretched country with all the wretched cold and absolutely wretched snow and completely wretched empty fields and unbelievably, unimaginably, unforgivably wretched person who managed to die out in the spectacularly, amazingly, horrifically wretched cold and-
Deep breathing. Remember the deep breathing exercises Honored Persephone taught you. Remember the cocoa waiting at home. Remember the warm blankets and that nice, new book. This job will be worth it. And anyway, after this last one, miniscule, tiny, little wretched job, it's time to switch to next duties.
And the wretched snow makes it so I can't even see the, obviously, transparent spirit. Wretched snow. It just has to make my life difficult, doesn't it? Well, guess what, snow? I won this round, so what now? I've got a parka this time! That's right, a parka, you wretch! This time you won't leave me curled up under the blankets with soup for a mo