What separates man and beast? For aren’t they both creatures living off from the world?

They each strive to prolong their existence in this world, whether alone or together with its kind. Both man and beast possessed a cognitive recognition of their surroundings.

They learn, adapt, survive, and thrive upon longevity.

Yet some things differentiate us, whether it be our strengths or weaknesses, and most importantly, the consciousness derived out of purpose.

“Alma… are you ready?” Sounded a man’s voice husky and low.

In response to her calling, the young girl suited her wooly parka and strapped on her rucksack, preparing herself on what’s to come. Then from the far end of the cabin, a similar fashioned man in his long-sleeved gambeson approached her, spear in hand.

“Ready to go?” the man asked.

“Yes, father… I’m ready,” replied Alma.

“Good…, you’re better off leaving that book of yours here…,” Magnus stated, eyeing over the book his daughter tuckered from him before proceeding to open the wooden door that connects them to the outside world.

The girl looked upon the man presumed to be her father, who went ahead without her. Feeling indifferent about his actions, she contemplated before the open door. [I guess it’ll probably get wet from the snowfall outside…] thought Alma, as she left her book behind in her house, embarking outside, allowing the chill wind a taste of her pale skin.

[How long has it been now?] She asked herself.

Prodding her memories, the girl recalled about roughly two months since they landed ashore and ever since the climate had only turned colder with frequent snowstorms, raging from time to time. Without definite estimation on the weather and with their supplies dwindling. They had no choice but to take turns scavenging in the wilderness despite the harsh climate.

“Alma! Nice weather we’re having, right?!” Hailed a jovial voice of a man.

“Well, it could have been worse,” Alma sneered. “Shoveling the snow all day again today, uncle Troels?”

“Seems so…,” replied Troels as he lumbered reluctantly, shoveling away snow from the rooftops. “I wished I could’ve accompanied you on the hunt, but someone has to do it, or else our houses would have been snowed in!”

“Haha..., I guess you’re right… If I was as strong as you perhaps I could do it,” continued Alma, laughing impassively.

“It’s not so heavy, ya know?” replied the tall and muscular man. “I bet you could do it as well!”

“Eh, I don’t think I could do it now! I’ll take a rain check, I guess! See you later,” smiled the young girl as she ran across the cleared off snow road.

“Yoo… ah, youth…,” said Troels, waving despairingly.

Every family had their share of tasks for the community, whether it was gathering firewood, animal feed, or the hunt for wild game, Alma’s role being the latter.

Fortunately for them, they have settled themselves in an area that isn’t devoid of resources. There’s still a flowing river not too far off the hamlet. A serene inlet which allowed their ships to harbor, arched cliffs which help ward away the snow, and even woodland ravines which sustained some vegetation despite the obnoxious winter.

As Alma traced her father’s footprints towards the woods along the coast, she’d be hailed by every villager she met along the way as they worked on their daily routines. From the blacksmith pounding tirelessly in his forge or the women weaving clothes in the comfort of their homes. They’d all take their time to greet the flaxen-haired girl who dashed before them.

“Alma! Heading out today, are we? Do your best out there!” Said a stocky man who was focused on carrying softwood logs.

“Yes, Mr. Boris...,” replied Alma, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Good to hear! Better move faster so yer father won’t leave you behind now! Come on then, Artyom!” The boisterous man shouted. “We still need to chop these into firewood before nighttime!”

Behind the man, a slender boy about her age followed suit not long after, carrying his own set of logs, his downcast eyes gazing away from Alma as they passed by each other silently.

[I wonder what’s his problem?] She asked herself in a straight face. Alma had already known everyone in their little hamlet. With their numbers being so few, it wasn’t hard to memorize everyone’s faces.

Though she didn’t know each of them personally, most of them were the same as her father in spirit. They couldn’t stand being in Lufenia and sought out their place in the world, even if they’d have to live in the frigid north.

[Everyone is in high spirits again, it seems… I wonder how they could maintain it? Is it purely out of self-preservation?] She questioned herself, inquiring about their efforts of survival.

[Does living here have more merit than what it was in Lufenia?] How she longed for her old life, where she would venture out with her flocks of sheep accompanying them to graze in the open meadows. She'd lay herself onto the grassy knolls as she waited for them, daydreaming about her hero's adventures. While her mother would prepare dinner for her as she gets back home, serving warm comfort food.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Yet, here she trudges through the cold snow with her father into some unknown wilderness scouring for any food they might find. With no one waiting for their return back home.

[Oh, how ironically somber the reality is.] Alma concluded in regret, wishing she could somehow rewind time.

“You… okay?” asked Alma’s father, who was waiting for her in the clearing ahead.

“Hufft… it’s fine. I’m fine…” replied Alma, panting slightly.

“Good.” Magnus snorted. “Then, let’s continue… Time is essential to us, with nightfall only a couple hours away.” He declared, guiding the way without pause.

Alma could only let out a long sigh. Why did she have to do this again? Perhaps she was better off shoveling the snow after all. “Where are we going, father?” Alma asked.

“Let’s head northwest following the coastline.” Said the stern man, oozing authority with his deep voice. “We’ll have to climb through the inlet’s hills…”

“Hiking on snow? Ahh…” protested Alma groaning softly with her dishonest childlike demeanor.

“Trudging only northward wouldn’t do any good,” said Magnus, dismissively shaking his head. “With that high terrain altitude, it’s only going to get even colder over there

“Right… as if there’s anything else here…,” scoffed Alma, kicking away the clods snow from her boots.

“Humph…,” exhaled Magnus, disregarding his child’s antics.

And so the pair continued traversing until they reached the top of the fjord, from there they would see the narrow waterway in the distance turning white with the cold.

For a moment, the two had their sights pinned towards the wasteland laid bare before them.

“There’s nothing here… see?” said Alma. “What kind of animal lives on solid ice?”

“No, where we are, this is perfect,” said Magnus.

Alma didn’t understand what her father had meant by it. But she followed him down the slope towards the snowy shores overlooking the sheet of ice. From there, her father took out a rope and entrusted one of its ends onto his daughter.

“Here, take this rope and hold it firm, okay?” Instructed Magnus as he tied the other end around his waist.

“W-What are you going to do?” Alma cried out.

“I’m going to try walking on the ice-”

“A-Are you insane?” Alma cut him off. “W-what if it does break?!” Alma doubted, her voice trembling tremulously. “Y-You could freeze to death if you enter those waters!”

“Then you better pull me out of it before it does break,” continued Magnus.

“W-What? I-I can’t pull you out from such a crucial moment! You’re even heavier than I am, especially with a backpack!” Alma stated, discouragingly.

Hearing her complaints, the well-built man kneels towards his daughter before encasing her frostbitten cheeks with his hands.

“Calm down, Alma… it’s going to be alright,” said Magnus as he gazed at her straight in the eye. “Now… I want you to be my anchor, keep the rope steady, and I would do the rest.”

“Okay… I can do it,” replied Alma, reluctantly agreeing.

Then the man carefully balanced himself over the ice as he moved slowly across the opaque surface, checking each step by sliding one foot beforehand. With each movement towards the center, anxiety would grow within Alma’s heart, and her grip of the rope would tighten ever so slightly.

Eventually, Magnus would reach the limits of his safety rope and had to accept it was far enough for him. He would then pull out a pickaxe from his rucksack, and with it in hand, Magnus proceeded to knock on the ice below consecutively with delayed hits. All the while being cautious about his surroundings.

“F-Father?” Alma cried out, fearing the faint crackling noises in the distance.

Magnus, who was well aware of his situation, disregarded his daughter’s cries and continued until a man-made hole was chiseled beside him. For a moment, he would peer into it, touching the exposed interior, getting a feel for the thickness of the ice.

“It’s… okay!” Magnus shouted.

“Thank goodness,” replied Alma, her shaky hands weary with sweat as the uneasiness subsided.

But it wasn’t over, as it was her turn now to traverse onto the ice sheet. Following her father’s example, Alma proceeded, taking on her baby steps.

It was an arduous track, and she knew it. With the inability to get proper a foothold while being burdened by a backpack. She realized sliding slowly with one foot at a time, was the only way to get a proper footing, though she knew it was much harder to cross without the safeguard of a rope which was held firmly by her father.

Occasionally one of her legs would slide further than it should, causing her to lose balance temporarily, straining the rope as well as her body.

“Hufft…,” puffed Alma, exhaling gently onto her stiffened palms, attempting to ease the pain. But eventually, Alma would reach her father, and they’d hold one another intimately.

“W-What… a-are we doing here?” asked Alma.

“We’re scouring for food,” said Magnus, casually speaking.

“W-what food could even b-be f-found o-on an s-sheet of i-ice?” Alma said, stuttering in the cold. “I-I could hardly even feel my hands out here!”

Looking into her childlike eyes, Magnus could only let out a disappointed sigh. “You see this hole I’ve made?” said Magnus after a brief silence. “You’re going to help fish for our food tonight.”

Alma knew the glint in his gaze. The old man was pleading to her like back then, when she was on the boat for the first time, bound to leave Lufenia and her mother behind.

Alma knew the glint in his gaze. The old man was pleading to her like back then, when she was brought on the boat for the first time, bound to leave Lufenia and her mother behind.The man pushed her to accept his decisions with a heavy heart, and this time was no different.

With all kinds of emotions stirring from within Alma gritted her teeth and clenched her mittens into fists, she had hated that look from him ever since. She wanted to push herself away, but her logical rationality snapped her out of it.

“F-Fine! I’ll do it.” Alma replied in an anguished tone. “I’d help you out…”

***

Thus, for the remainder of the day, Alma stood atop the frozen waters, observing the bottomless blue ocean. With a wooden spear in hand, she remained vigilant, adhering to her father’s instructions.

She'd learn to scrutinize closely, gauging a shadow distance as it rushed by, lurking beneath the surface. It approached warily towards the jittering movement of a lure, gradually increasing in size the closer it gets.

Remaining calm to prevent any sudden movement or noise, she'd make sure not to frighten it, and with a false sense of security, it tugged the string with a nibble, cueing Alma to strike.

[Now it’s my chance!]

In the precise time, the lure was tugged from beneath Alma lunged her spear into the open hole piercing the shadow, and with the momentum of an entire body, she’d pull it back out with excessive strength causing her to trip and lose her footing.

#Thud# Sounded the girl, as she fell flat on her back.

“Ugh…” Alma wheezed uncomfortably. “H-How was that…? Did I get it?”

“You sure did…,” replied Magnus sonorously, giving a hand towards his daughter with a concerned yet proud expression. “Are you hurt?”

“No… I don’t think so,” said Alma.

While Alma repositioned her body, she’d glance over a blood trail originating from her spear’s tip. The part where the blade met flesh, skewering through the fish’s corpse. For a moment, Alma was taken aback at the sight as if feeling sorrow for the animal. But if they were to survive this dreadful place, and what seems like a never-ending winter. They’d need a lot more than a couple of measly fish. The mere thought made Alma’s lips curl.

“Do you not like it?” asked Magnus, realizing her discontent. “If you’d live off life from the hunt?”

“Is… this what you do for a living?” inquired Alma, dispassionately, her eyes tearing in a sinful innocence as she looked at him.

“Yes, I have always been a hunter…,” Magnus admitted. “Before I was chosen to become an explorer, and back when I first met your mother. Hunting animals and beasts were my trade.”

Alma gave a long thought about her father’s words – She tries to recall what her mother had told her about her family who had handled animals for generations.

But a hunter also handled animals, did they not?

However, before she could’ve asked him even further, Alma’s head started to feel lightheaded.

“Alma!” Magnus shouted, quickly catching his daughter, who was about to collapse once more.

“A-ah… u-uh… w-why my vision is getting awry…” Snorted Alma, gasping for air. “Father…” She called out to him one last time before her senses started to fail her.

The cold seemed mild at first, yet now it had numbed her entire body, starting from her face seeping down to her toes. With each breath, sapping the heat from within her turning into white vapor. Though her senses were dulled, somehow, she could feel a slight warmth of an embrace enveloping her. Though her body remained deadened, she could sense her inner doubts being thawed away.