Llinnea hadn't expected to be out here on her own. She'd thought she would have had Asmund with her, her bror by her side to face the world. She'd never have believed it if someone told her her bror hated her, blamed her for Mor's death, would refuse to come out with her.
Blamed her like she did herself.
She couldn't let herself be sad. She wouldn't. He was just a jerk who couldn't see reason. He was too busy being scared, while she was ready to take control. That was fine. She could do this by herself, even if the snow was deeper and the nights harsher than she'd expected. She missed the warmth of the others at night. She tried not to; she couldn't go back. Not now.
She had things to do. So she forged on, pushing through the snow, and trying to ignore the hunger gnawing at her belly.