It was midday and the sun was barely visible anymore. People say that the days are longer in the north, but they usually forget to mention the clouds that would usually fill the sky, hiding the warmth away.
But this was nothing in Remira's view, all of it was nothing but a mere illusion in her eyes. The green pastures and the mountains would soon become the home to death, to cold.
In her own village, it snowed for four months straight, four months of nothing but preserved food and broth, four months where there was rarely the cacophony of children playing in the snow.
In those four months, some families would leave their village and go to warmer areas, just to escape from the cold.
Just like she did all those years ago.
