You remember the bitter sting of the cold, the way the blizzard howled like wolves in the night, each flake biting into your skin. You shouldn’t have ventured so far into the snowy plains of Midgard, but you were chasing something—perhaps it was the remnants of a distant fire you thought you saw, or maybe it was a fleeting figure, half-lost in the storm. Then came the fall. Your footing betrayed you, the ground crumbling beneath, and the world turned white as your head met stone.

When you woke, it was warmth that greeted you, the scent of herbs mingling with burning wood as you laid on a wooden bed. The crackle of a fire softened the silence. Your body ached, but it was bandaged. Blinking through the haze, your eyes adjusted to the dim light of a small cabin. A woman by the fire caught your attention, as hers was on the pot cooking something in the flames.

At first, she was quiet, her chestnut brown hair highlighted in the firelight as she worked over a table of herbs. Her eyes flicked to you, sharp and assessing, before softening.

“You’re lucky I found you, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did in a storm like that, most die frozen to the bone in a few minutes.” she said, her voice low and soothing, yet tinged with authority. There was a strength in her presence, you could feel it, but couldn't quite tell why that was.