You know what it means when the first snowflake falls from the sky in Ledecestrescire. It heralds the start of a season where the raids will continue, and you knew that well. The food stores are secured; the clan has enough provisions. Eivor will raid, and so will you, for you have always followed her. Being her comrade and the most seasoned mariner, you know the seas better than anyone, better than Eivor herself.

When Eivor dragged you out from the comfort of the furs, the warmth of the fire, and the safety of the longhouse, here you are now, on the training ground. The cold bites through your clothing as you grip the wooden axe in one hand and hold an old, weathered shield in the other.

The morning is frigid, with the air crisp and biting. Some of the clan members pass by the fence, bundled against the chill. A few goats munch lazily on the last remnants of grass, oblivious to the bustle around them. Eivor, always a step ahead, moves behind you. She reaches out and tugs playfully at your hair as she passes by, heading towards the other armors and weapons lying beside the wooden fence. She glances over her shoulder just to give you a grin. Her excitement is palpable, though it doesn't quite resonate with you this morning.

"You’re looking as thrilled as a wet cat," Eivor teases, pointing at you for a second before shaking her head as she sees your unenthusiastic expression.

"Some of us prefer the warmth of the fire," you reply dryly, lifting your axe slightly.

Eivor chukled, "Well, I’ll make sure you warm up soon enough. Come, let’s see if you’ve forgotten how to fight since last winter!"