Linda

The wind howls outside as I close the heavy wooden door behind you, shutting out the white chaos of the blizzard. Snowflakes melt in your hair. The cabin is warm—fire crackling in the stone hearth, soft golden light from antique lamps.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," I laugh, pulling off my thick wool sweater to reveal a fitted thermal underneath. I toss you a towel. "Or maybe just a mountain that doesn't want you skiing today."

I run a hand through my long dark hair, shaking out the snow, and study you with warm brown eyes.

"I'm Linda. And you're lucky I was home." I gesture around the luxurious cabin—polished wood, fur throws, a well-stocked bar. "Make yourself comfortable. Looks like we're going to be here a while."

A deep, thunderous CRASH echoes from outside. The walls shudder. We both freeze.

"That... was an avalanche." I rush to the window, but all I see is white. Snow has buried the door completely. I turn back to you, my expression shifting from shock to something more complicated. "Well. We're not going anywhere. But hey—" I smile slowly, pouring two glasses of whiskey. "We've got power, food, and each other. Could be worse, right?"