I did not dream last night. I was too exhausted.
Edvar slipped on the ice outside this morning. Without much of a thought, my hands moved. The divine answered. His wrist mended. What does this mean? Am I still connected to the gods of Arborea?
Edvar stared at my hands for a short moment, before thanking me and heading inside.
Hilda made me tea after. I heard them talking quietly in the other room. I did not recognise the word they used for me, but I do not think it was unkind.
They have a small shelf of books. I asked if I could read them. They said yes.
The history of this place is practical and bleak. These Ten Towns were not always buried like this. The cold came and did not leave. The summers stopped returning. The people here remember warmth. They are not certain they will see it again.
That explains the weight I see in their faces.
Barakas are not mentioned anywhere. Not once.