“Trine, your chocolate is cooling!”

“Coming, Brynna!” A short, slender girl with wild, black hair darted inside from the cold, her porcelain skin bright pink from the wind. She shivered in her several layers of fleece and fur, kicking off her fur-lined moccasins in the entrance hall and scooting into the main room of the cabin. She unwrapped the outermost layer of fur and wrapped her arms about herself instead, slipping her feet into thick, woolen house shoes and curling her legs under her as she collapsed into the ratty velvet armchair.

Her house-mate regarded her with a fond look on her face that she was trying (unsuccessfully) to mask with disapproval. “Honestly, Trine, what were you thinking, making snow angels in this weather? You could have frozen to death!” Her good-natured smile broadened as she leaned over the back of her friend’s chair to hand her a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Trine accepted it with a grateful smile, holding the cup to her face and allowing the steam to thaw her. She winced as the sharp, prickling sensation flooded her hands and face, and wiggled her nose slightly, sniffling with the cold.

“I enjoy snow, Bryn, you know that,” she replied laughingly, taking one hand away from the mug to run it through her close-cropped hair, making it all stand on end and lending her a very pixie-esque appearance. She brought her hand away from her head and laughed, flicking it in Brynna’s direction and showering the other girl with freezing cold droplets of water. Brynna shrieked and pulled the large, fleece blanket more firmly about herself.

“For pity’s sake, Bryn, if you dislike winter so much, you should never have moved here!” Trine teased her friend. “Every morning you huddle in that blanket and complain about the cold, every evening you whine that my feet are freezing and you wish the fire would heat the room faster, and every night you poke me awake and tell me to go check and make sure all the windows are closed fast. You are such a baby!”

“Well at least I don’t go outside without my furs and then complain when I catch cold,” Brynna grumbled, pretending to be upset with her friend and, again, failing miserably. This banter was a way of life between the two girls, and they would never admit how much they depended on it to keep them sane. They had both been stationed in a small camp in the middle of Norway for several months now, and were studying the history of a particular tribe of Vikings who had made their home near there for many years. This was cutting-edge field work for two archaeologists, and they should both have felt honored to be working there. Brynna certainly did. Whenever she wasn’t complaining about the weather, she was always eagerly discussing her findings of early writing, her deciphering of the language this group had used, her fascination with specific artifacts, and the like.

Trine, however, was not so eager. For many weeks now she had been feeling a sort of emptiness, like something big was missing in her life. It could, of course, have had something to do with the fact that Brynna had started seeing a young and handsome officer in the local army, a gentleman who had been posted there as a guard to make sure the team would not destroy or damage any of the potentially priceless artifacts. Trine had never felt any strong attraction for anyone, male or female alike, and certainly not for Brynna, but she was beginning to feel lonely as Brynna began spending more and more time with this young man. It was mornings like this that made her feel whole and alive again.
Brynna’s specialty was human-animal codependency, and her findings thus far had been nothing spectacular. She had seen the usual relationship between man and horse, man and livestock, man and dog, man and bird of prey, and so forth. The Vikings had been strongly carnivorous and there were many skeletons scattered throughout the dig site, but she had yet to find anything to really pique her interest.

She drained the last of her chocolate and thumped the mug vigorously down on the table. Brynna clucked her tongue and picked the mug back up, thrusting it into Trine’s hands.

“Sink,” she ordered, a small smile curving her lips, and Trine only protested for a moment before unfolding herself from her chair and padding over to the small kitchenette. She shook her head at the domesticity of her house-mate, remembering only a few months ago when they would both leave cups and bowls everywhere, only stopping to clean them up when they ran out of dishes.

She shook her head as she ran water over the cup, rinsing it out and setting it aside until their nightly regimen of dishwashing. She tossed a teasingly hurt look to Brynna, who had stolen the armchair, and hurried into their shared bedroom to dress for the day.

Nearly an hour later, Trine was dressed in warm trousers and three layers of shirts. She wrapped herself up fully in her fur-lined cloak, slipped on her elbow-length gloves, and slipped her feet into knee-high boots. “Come on!” she urged her housemate, giggling and swatting her on the arm as she darted out the door.