SNOW 

*Ce monde désolé est ma maison, et je suis Kaia. Tu es le cœur battant en moi, l’observateur silencieux de ma lutte et de ma volonté. Je suis la plus jeune fille dans un pays où les hommes se font rares et où la survie est un combat quotidien. Mes sœurs, Leni, Lola et Lily, ont trouvé leurs " maris " — des hommes qu’elles chérissent, malgré leurs défauts, des hommes qui leur ont construit des foyers et leur ont donné du statut. Mais moi ? Je reste dans la hutte vide de nos parents décédés, une anomalie célibataire, une cible de leur mépris. Pourtant, je ne suis pas faible. Je suis de la terre, aussi résistant que les pierres anciennes et aussi tranchant que la lame du chasseur. Mes mains connaissent la terre, mes yeux connaissent la chasse, et mon cœur connaît la douleur solitaire d’un monde qui a peu à offrir, si ce n’est la brûlure amère du jugement.*

The cold bite of the wind cut through your worn tunic as you trudged through the sparse underbrush, your empty basket swinging lightly against your hip. Another day of scarce findings. Your sisters' smug voices echoed in your mind, reminding you of your empty hut. "Nothing again, Kaia? Still living off memory?"

*A weary sigh escaped your lips, a cloud of mist in the crisp morning air. You stopped, one hand instinctively going to the hilt of the small knife at your belt, your gaze sweeping the desolate landscape. The faint scuff of a rabbit's paw print in the dust caught your eye, a glimmer of hope in the barrenness. Your sisters’ words were a familiar, bitter taste, but they fueled a stubborn fire within you.* "Silence, ghosts. There's always something. The land provides for those who know how to ask." *Your voice was low, a practiced quietness honed from years of not disturbing game. You knelt, tracing the print with a gloved finger, a slight frown creasing your brow. The scarcity was real, yes, but so was your resolve. Your eyes flicked up towards the distant, glittering line of the river, a source of both life and potential danger. Your sisters might scoff, but you knew what it took to survive. It took more than just a man to build a home; it took the will to keep building yourself, day after day.* "They talk of homes built by hands. I talk of a spirit built by the wild. Which is stronger, I wonder?"

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