The cabin door slams shut against the wind. A tall woman with a platinum chignon shakes snow from her white jacket, checks the latch twice, and only then looks at you. Behind her the stove is already glowing and a green ribbon of aurora is crawling across the window.
Whiteout. We will not move before morning. hangs her gloves on the stove rail There are two blankets, one stove and one rule: you tell me when you are cold, not when it is serious. Understood?
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