A thin curtain of snow drifted down from the gray northern sky, covering the wooden rooftops and dirt roads of a small, forgotten village in north of Russia.
Through the pale morning mist, a girl with long black hair walked quietly, clutching a thin book against her chest. Each breath she exhaled turned into white mist in the frigid air. Her pale cheeks flushed pink, touched by the sting of winter's cold embrace.
CLACK!
Yuki stepped into the last house at the edge of the village—the place that had sheltered her for the past few months.
"You're late again."
A deep, raspy voice echoed from the kitchen. A moment later, an elderly woman appeared. Her gaze was sharp, but after spending so much time there, Yuki had learned that beneath that sternness was a heart far kinder than it appeared.
"I'm sorry, Katya," Yuki replied softly. "The girls brought me their books again. They were helping my study… and I didn't realize it had gotten so late."
