The bitter cold of a northern Finnish January morning cut through the pre-dawn darkness like a knife. At minus thirty-seven degrees Celsius, the air itself seemed frozen, each breath transforming instantly into crystalline clouds that hung motionless before dissipating. In this profound stillness, even sound behaved differently-traveling farther, sharper, more distinct. The crunch of boots on snow could be heard from half a kilometer away, the crack of freezing tree bark echoed like gunshots across the valley, and the whispered prayers of a solitary woman carried clearly across the frozen expanse of Lake Kaltio.
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