Thanos Kalamidas - Lapland Mystery

The north wind doesn’t whisper in Lapland. It doesn’t even talk. It bites down, right through to the bone, and then it keeps chewing. It was chewing on Nils Vartia as he knelt in the snow, his reindeer-skin coat a poor shield against its malice. The aurora borealis rippled overhead, a silent, green-and-violet cathedral ceiling, indifferent to the small, ugly scene unfolding beneath it.