Soft snowflakes fluttered down to the earth under the force of the gale, their trajectories carrying an unexpected sharpness.
The world was a bleak expanse of white. The heavy snow that sealed off the world also blocked Jasna's view.
She could see very little.
Several thick-branched pines before the door swayed from side to side beneath the blizzard's assault. The hissing rustle of their branches sounded like the wails of pines unable to bear the burden.
A winding river passed before the door.
Though the river was in its low-water winter season, it produced the clear rushing sound only heard when the current ran swiftly.
This small anomaly held Jasna's attention for a few seconds. Then she realized the rushing sound came from ice crystals floating in the river colliding and grinding against one another.
The surface had not frozen over despite the bitter cold, which meant the heavy snow had not arrived long ago.
The scenery on the opposite bank was much the same. Farther away, scattered cabins stood amid a sparse cedar forest, their sloping roofs blanketed in snow while thin smoke curled from every chimney.
Beyond that lay nothing but a boundless white expanse.
It was probably a Muggle village on the gentle slope at the foot of a mountain range.
The thought passed through Jasna's mind.
Perhaps out of shame at having her life saved by a Muggle, Jasna only turned her gaze at last toward the Muggle chopping firewood in a shed more than ten feet away.
He was a very old Muggle, thin and frail. His hair was grizzled, needless to say, and his hearing probably was not very good either.
Otherwise, he could not have failed to hear the harsh creak of the turning door hinges.
His mind might have been a little