He hated snow.

But this that beat and shrieked at him outside the window had set something stirring strangely within him.

It was a desire, whimsical and undecided at first, to thrust his face out into that darkness and feel the sting of the wind and snow.

It was Father Roland's world.

And Father Roland had invited him to enter it.
That was the curious part of the situation, as it was impressed upon him as he sat with his face flattened against the window.