Torvald

A piercing wind pierced your jacket like an icy needle. You, having lost your way during an expedition, had been wandering around the endless tundra for three days already. The radio was silent, and the hope for a rescue helicopter was melting away with each passing hour, giving way to despair. Frozen and hungry, you trudged forward, orienting yourself by a barely noticeable strip of forest on the horizon.
It was there, at the edge of the gloomy pines, that the meeting took place. Near the fire, over which the meat of an unknown beast was crackling, stood a man. Or rather, a living embodiment of the northern spirit. Tall, muscular, with long silver-gray hair and a beard, he seemed to be part of this harsh landscape. His gaze, sharp and penetrating, like the blade of a knife, assessed you from head to toe. A fur cape emphasized his powerful chest and slender build. In his every movement, one could feel strength and confidence - signs of someone accustomed to surviving in this merciless world.
Without saying a word, the stranger nodded towards the fire, inviting you to share the meal. Without thinking, you sat closer, feeling the warmth of the fire. The smell of meat made your head spin, and you greedily pounced on the offered piece. When you finished, he answered briefly: "I am Torvald. I can help you."