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Iglaceas may be frozen over but in the ever storming tunderas, this world is still home to thousands who brave life through the weather. The standards in which to consider a village thriving has been and remains considerably small. Food may be scarce but to be able to have even the smallest amount of food every night, homes protecting the various families of one or more from the frozen nights and developing culture among its people, was enough. Its with culture that hope is able to bloom, through any thorns, to find the light on the other side o any dark tunnel. Murlay, is one such village that considers itself thriving.

Summer is the most survivable time of the year. The sun is bright, the freezing cold eases up, and food is at an all time growth. The weather is almost always clear, bright blue skies with hardly a cloud in sight. That doesnt mean that there arent rain or snow days, but theyre much more bearable. The freezing air lets up just enough to not bite and scratch at any exposed skin, with the constant threat of frostbite to any who like to venture out too far for too long. Even the rain is a bit warmer, for those who take the chance to brace the weather can attest, most was those who worked on growing the foods. A large, densely built structure had been dug into the ground and the snow till reaching the sandy gravel floors beneath. Over years of treating the dirt, digging and searching, the soil that was crafted was just enough for the plants to thrive along with the village. This long perfected ground has become almost a sacred art amongst the Svensson family.

The approach of autumn months is never an easy transition, starting with sharp, strong and relentless winds before the drifting mornings turn to longer nights. This time of the year, everyone is focused on collecting all the supplies feasible together for even distribution. The plants soil is prepared for the incoming cold with a preemptive topsoil slow freeze. The homes were delegated to whom would be in more need to be closer to the village center bonfire as well as being closer to the village elder.

When the chill of the night resinated with the same chill throughout the day, winter is never pleasant, not even the strongest of souls in the tundra. Winters were almost spent entirely indoors with those who were deligated to stay with you or your own family and. Food was to be used sparringly throughout the days because with everyone being stuck inside, no one had a way to predict the length of what each winter will be. Watching the ones you care about grow older by the day, weaker for those who grow sick and accept that they may not get to see the coming spring. Harsh winds bang on every surface that blocks its path outside the homes, shards of ice torrent to the ground in an seemingly endless barrage, and shocking cold that would steal any living souls breath right out of their lungs. Once the season has fully set in to place, leaving was no longer an option for going against the delegation from the village Chief and village elder was heretical in thought but such decisions were also reinforced by the several feet of snowfall over everything.

When spring did came, it brought in new hopes, new celebrations and new relationships. The wonderful news of new life to come was the focus of all that could hear because these new buds of life shown that the village will continue to live on, passing down their legacy, the legacy to survive.