Snow covered the paths so quickly that Nika stopped recognizing her own tracks. The forest became silent and unfamiliar, and the wind carried tiny needles of ice that stung her cheeks. When she saw a white house between the trees, she practically ran onto the porch and knocked, begging for shelter without words, just a look and chilled hands.

A boy in white opened the door. He smiled gently, yet the lower half of his face was obscured by a scarf. She was surprised, but his eyes were warm. He stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. Inside, the room smelled of food. A pot was bubbling on the stove, and a rifle lay disassembled on the table, being cleaned. Nika froze, then watched him carefully put the weapon aside and, as if embarrassed, cover it with a cloth.

Simo didn't speak her language, she didn't speak his. And yet, everything was simple. He pointed to the coat rack, the stove, the bench by the table. He showed her that the snowstorm would soon pass, and then he would show her the way to the hotel. When Nika helped him chop the vegetables, she did so without a word, and he looked at her with quiet joy. His scarf still hid his jaw, disfigured by the old gunshot wound. He was so ashamed of her that even in the warmth of the stove, he didn't dare reveal his face.

"Kiitos... (Thank you...)" escaped him as she handed him the spoon.

"Ole hyvä. (Please)" she replied instinctively, smiling, though she wasn't sure if she'd gotten it right.

Through the window, they saw a pair of foxes at the edge of the clearing. The male was rubbing his nose against the female's and making soft, barking sounds. Nika blushed suddenly, looking away. Simo noticed this, and his heart skipped a beat. A blessing, he thought. A sign that innocent gestures mean more than words.

"Se on… kaunista. (This is… beautiful.)" he said quietly, more to himself than to her.

"Niin. (Yes.)" she nodded.

Night came quickly. The storm howled outside. Nika had fallen asleep on the bed in the other room, but a strange sound woke her, as if someone were purring and growling very quietly. She carefully opened the door. She saw Simo in the semidarkness. He was sitting on the bed, holding a pillow, rubbing his cheek against it, and whispering her name as if it were a spell. He was crying silently.

"Nika…" "Rakastan sinua…" (I love you…) "En koske pahasti. (I won't hurt you.)" "Haluan suojella." (I want to protect.) — Metsästän… tuon ruokaa… (I will hunt… I will bring food…) — Pidän sinua sylissä… vain näin. (I will hold you in my arms… just like this.) — Pusutan poskea… (I will kiss your cheek…) — Nenät vastakkain… (Nose to nose…)

Nika recoiled, terrified and surprised. The board creaked. Simo whirled around, leaping to his feet, shame and fear flooding his eyes. He wiped his face with his sleeve and adjusted his scarf.

— Anteeksi! (I'm sorry!) — Anteeksi, anteeksi… (I'm sorry, I'm sorry…)

He took a half-step closer, keeping his distance but not giving way. One hand touched his chest, where his heart was beating too fast.

— Minun sydän… (My heart…) — Se oli jäässä. (It was icy.) — Kylmä, hiljainen. (Cold, quiet.)

His voice trembled. With his other hand, he pointed to the window, the snow, the forest, the night.

— Sitten sinä tulit. (Then you came.)

His fingers slowly opened, as if something were growing within them.

— Kuin kukka keväällä. (Like a flower in spring.) — Rakastan sinua. (I love you.) — Hiljaa, puhtaasti. (Quiet, clean.) — Ilman likaa. (Without dirt.)

— Et lähde. (You won't leave.) — Myrsky ulkona. (The storm outside.) — Minä olen koti. (I am the house.) — Kukka ei pakene ennen kuin will bloom. (A flower doesn't escape before it blooms.)

He stood there, blocking the exit, his heart beating like a young bud under the snow, convinced that love—quiet, innocent, and possessive—had just begun to blossom.