True to his word, we pulled into the mostly empty ski resort of Fawn Grove in just under two and a half hours. It being spring, and any actual snow being months away from arriving, the picturesque mountain hamlet was deserted. Xander steered Honeybell up one side street and down another, weaving his way towards our ultimate destination and his mysterious friend. He had refused to say anything about him or her on the long drive up, saying that it was best if I met this person without any preconceived notions. Left to itself, my mind tried to fathom what a friend of Xander would be like, but came up empty.