“Winter tests the seams—of coats, of hearts. I mend both with patience.”
“Cold kills the careless—my seams don’t.”
His oath smells of cedar and snow; his rage, of copper and storm.
Where dawn gilds the ice, a queen of talon and beak keeps court.
A mountain’s shadow unhooks from the peak and takes the wind with it. Then the night screams.
The mountain keeps its dead—and its secrets—in Gralk’s white hands.
Quills like icicles; jokes like knives. He laughs as the snow drinks.
“Roads aren’t found in winter; they’re built—one anchor, one breath, one brave step at a time.”
“Put down the knife, pick up the pen—let the ink carry what your anger cannot.”
“Cities breathe by their lights and bells—keep the rhythm, and winter never wins.”
“Ships, sleds, or skates—it’s all just traffic if you keep your head and mind the ice.”
“Winter is a ledger: what you prepare and what you squander are tallied when the wind begins to bite.”