Hyona PoV
[200~ years ago]
I giggled as I ran though the snow, clutching a bundle of freshly gathered pine boughs to my chest.
"Hyona, slow down! You'll trip into a drift!" my mother called from behind, her voice carrying that fond, exasperated lilt I knew by heart.
I didn't slow down. The crisp air nipped at my cheeks, painting them bright pink, but the cold had never bothered me. In Kuroyuki no San, the snow wasn't an enemy—it was our blanket, our home, the quiet rhythm of our lives. My small boots crunched rhythmically against the powder as I raced toward our homestead, where pale gray smoke curled invitingly from the stone chimney.
Father was already outside, splitting firewood beside the pen where our two winter-yaks grazed on dried moss. Every strike of his axe was clean, practiced, sending hearty pine chips scattering across the crust of ice.
"Look, Papa!" I shouted, holding up the sprigs of evergreen. "For the hearth mantle!"
