Golden Glade i'll follow you into the dark

"The snow as insulation... it's clever," she murmured, more to herself than him, though the faintest flicker of approval crossed her expression. "A barrier that traps warmth rather than radiates it." Straightening herself, she glanced at Qvasir, her gaze steady and probing. "The trees are wise to endure this ground. They adapt—grow together so none fall alone. If we’re to survive here, we’ll need to do the same."

She turned, gesturing to the surrounding forest. "If we use the branches, we must take with care. Their strength lies in their unity. Strip too much, and they’ll weaken." Her tone carried a quiet warning, her reverence for the land evident.

Mictec stepped back, scanning the area with an assessing eye. "If we work with what’s already stable, like you said, we’ll save time. Look for natural arches, low-hanging boughs, places where the trees have already begun the work for us. The snow will hold if we pack it tightly."

Her attention returned to Qvasir, her expression softer now, though still resolute. "The land whispers its truths, all that it asks is for us to listen." She paused before adding, her tone carrying a note of acknowledgment, "And adapt, as you said. That’s survival."