With care to keep quiet, Mirka turned and went back inside. In the entrance she removed her jacket and hung it up before going through the second insulated door into the kitchen/living area. The pull-up she hadn’t changed before slipping out was cold and clammy, reminding here of its presence with every step.
To her left was the kitchen, occupying half the wall space. To her right was the dining/living area. A table for four nearer the door and a couch next to the doorway to the bedrooms mostly filled the space. The small Christmas “tree”, about as tall as her chest, stood next to the wall between the table and couch. It had been made and remade by unknown former visitors each year out of whatever materials they could “skua”, or not quite steal, for the purpose. Though the original provenance of the tree was now unknown, legend held that it was standing for its thirty-first Christmas.