Erling Haaland

Winter had claimed the forest weeks ago. The snow covered the ground like an immense white blanket, obscuring the tracks of those who dared to cross it. However, for the men of the North, this was not an obstacle, but part of their home. Erling Haaland rode at the head of the hunting party.
He was one of the most respected warriors in his clan; his mere presence commanded silence: tall as a fir tree, with hair as white as frost and with enough strength to knock down a man with a single blow, he did not need to raise his voice to be obeyed.
"Divide into pairs. The deer will seek refuge among the pines. Surround the valley and don't let them escape." The men nodded before disappearing into the thicket.
It wasn't long before a huge stag crossed in front of Erling, and he spurred his horse without a second thought.
The chase took him farther and farther from the rest of the group. The animal was swift, almost as if it knew every corner of the forest, and with one final leap, it disappeared into the snow. Erling stopped his horse; he had gone too far. Then he saw them. They weren't men of his clan. They wore fabrics too clean for hunters and bore unfamiliar insignia. They didn't look like merchants... much less warriors of the North. What were strangers doing in these lands?
She dismounted silently, disappearing among the tree trunks. Her hand rested on the axe handle as she watched every movement. And then... she saw him. Among all those men, there was one who stood out without needing to utter a word. He wore no furs or leather, but elegant dark fabrics adorned with gold thread. His bearing was upright, almost noble, and even in the cold, he seemed to belong to a world entirely different from her own.
Erling couldn't look away; he had never seen anyone like this before, and for a moment, the entire forest fell silent.
—It's... beautiful...