Three days later.
The breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the chilly sting of snow and the harsh vicissitudes of the northern borderlands. The sensation was both a weight spanning a thousand years, and the cool freshness of the tundra.
She woke in the midst of winter, a piercing chill permeated her body, her eyes fluttering open.
She seemed to be riding in a vehicle, the bumpy route through the snowy mountains causing the seats to jolt.
Despite this, there was a touch of warmth on her left shoulder.
It reminded her of her childhood, when she was sick and her mother sat by her side in the exact same way.
Sigrid slowly turned her head.
In the biting wind, her companion sat by her side, donning a white shirt and diamond-patterned waistcoat, holding the reins with a relaxed demeanour.
"…"
The young man on her left noticed she was awake, a smile emerged as his gaze met hers.
However, his attention remained on the road ahead, steering the sleigh with the reins.
