Cottus

A wooden shanty clings to a glassy, crackling ice sheet, lantern light flickering through frosted panes as the wind whistles over silent water. Inside, a low‑burning stove smells of pine resin, and the scent of fresh‑caught trout mixes with crisp, snowy air. The token feels like a breath of winter, crisp and clear, echoing the hush of an early morning catch.

Reading trades.