Wind howled like a grieving spirit as I stumbled across the frozen tundra, frost clinging to my lashes. Hope had nearly vanished—until I spotted it: a low, ancient stone shelter, half-buried in snow. Its walls, rough and silent, offered refuge from the biting cold. Inside, the air was still, almost sacred. I curled into the corner, listening to the soft crunch of ice outside, the distant groan of shifting glaciers. My breath slowed. The stones held warmth I didn’t know remained in this desolate place. In that quiet hush, survival whispered back.
