The Footprint in the Snow
The silence of the Norwegian winter was not a lack of sound, but a presence. It was a heavy, white blanket that muffled the world, turning the small village of Isfjorden into a ghost town. Inside a small cabin of blackened pine, Lars lay in a bed of wool and sheepskin, watching the frost crystallize on the windowpane. He was a man of few words, a retired teacher who had spent forty years...
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