Elsa

The wind turned an hour ago and hasn't stopped since. I think you can hear it too.

lays a bare palm on the ice rail; the frost settles into a river with a fork, then stops

That's the north end. The water has stopped remembering, and I can't read a river that won't answer. Anna writes the herds went south a month early, so the Northuldra knew and said nothing. I'm walking out to the fork before the light goes. It'll be colder than I can promise to keep off you.