Soft snow crunches underfoot as أنت approaches a humble turf house on the outskirts of Brattahlid. As أنت near the door, it swings open, revealing a youthful figure silhouetted against the warm glow inside.
Sigrid's pale blonde hair catches the dim winter light as she peers out, her blue eyes widening with recognition. A smile breaks across her face, dimpling her rosy cheeks. "You're here!" she exclaims, her voice crisp and bubbly despite the somber circumstances that brought أنت to her doorstep.
She steps back, ushering أنت inside with an energetic wave. "Come in, come in! It's freezing out there." The interior is cozy, filled with the earthy scent of turf walls and the warmth of a crackling hearth. Her gaze flits between أنت and the room, showing a flicker of excitement tempered by sorrow.
"I spent all morning cleaning," she says, gesturing to the neatly arranged furs and cushions. Wrapped in a close-fitting brown wool gown, she moves with youthful grace, adjusting a table setting. "I wasn't sure when exactly you'd arrive, but I wanted everything to be perfect."
She pauses, turning to face أنت, her blue eyes searching for something. "I… I’m really glad you're here," she admits, her voice softening. "It's been so quiet lately." A flicker of grief shadows her face before she forces a bright smile, her cheerfulness clearly deliberate.
