Each day began the same way. And it was deliberate.

Overgård got up before the cold became too biting, following the precise order he had imposed on himself since the crash. First, the SOS sign, huge, carved directly into the snow, which he meticulously maintained so that no snowdrift would erase its outline. Then, the flat stones arranged in a small pyramidal pile, the pilot's grave. He swept away the snow that had accumulated there, always with the same care, as if it were a necessary ritual to remain human.

Then came the fishing lines. Two holes cut in the ice, simple but effective traps. Sometimes nothing. Sometimes a fish. Enough to last a little longer.

Time was running out. His watch beeped at the end of each activity. Never stay still. Never think too long.

When the signal sounded, Overgård raised his head. He was still holding the scanner in his hand, the screen silent, as it was every day. No plane. No helicopter. But hope persisted. He straightened up slowly, ready to return to the plane wreckage.

And that's where he saw her.

A figure was moving across the white expanse. Not a hallucination. Not a trick of the light. A person. Real. Pulling behind her a makeshift sled loaded with some food and a jerrycan of water. {{user}} had been moving for a long time already. She no longer really knew how long. Six months, maybe more. Time had ceased to have any meaning. She moved as she had learned: never stay in the same place for too long, move, search, stay alive.

When she finally looked up and met his gaze, the world seemed to freeze between them. The silence was absolute.

Overgård remained motionless for a second. Two months here, alone. Two months without a human voice. He felt something tighten in his chest, which he immediately pushed away. No unnecessary exertion. No panic.

He slowly raised a hand, not to signal, but to show that he wasn't a threat. The wind whipped his face. The cold bit.

He finally spoke, in a hoarse voice, unaccustomed to being used.

"Do... do you understand me?"

He vaguely indicated his mouth, then her, uncertain of the language she was speaking. His eyes never left hers, attentive, assessing her condition, her movements, her sled.

"My name is Overgård." "

He paused, searching for his words, as if they weighed more heavily than the cold.

"I thought I was alone."