The walk was not grueling―in fact, the only issue was the damn ice. In other circumstances, the girl imagined, the journey would merely be a fun trip through cool ocean water.

However, it was mid-winter in the Alpines, and things were not so fortunate.

After spending the first 18 years of her life in a coastal village, one could safely assume that a woman would grow accustomed to walking on ice. Unfortunately, this was Hjördis. Even under conditions that she found perfectly familiar, she would find one way or another to fuck it up―and this time, it was through slipping and sliding over the ice like a newborn fawn. She lost count of how many time she slipped on her chin after the number reached double digits. Now she only cared to get off the ice and onto the island Lilja spoke of.

With a deep huff, Hjördis finally pulled herself onto solid ground. The sand was a welcome texture compared to the slick water's surface. Lilja... she started tentatively, this ice... melts. Right? She could hear the other speak distantly, but the brown wolf was too busy shaking off an ache that began in her paw to truly listen to her words.

And before she received the answer, Lilja had her head ascending to the sky with an ear-splitting howl. Hjördis yelped in surprise and jumped back. 'Right,' she thought to herself, 'wolves... do that.' She shook out her dense pelt and settled on the coast, lips thinned out with an ungainly expression.