Darkness was beginning to well and truly fall by the time they reached Polar’s house. One story and one large room. It was made of rough-hewn rock and looked like a strong wind could blow it over, but Polar was proud of it. She’d built it herself, mining the stone and cutting the wood and even (when she’d still been able to do it) refining the few bits of metal in it. It’d stood for over a decade and was one of the best houses she’d ever lived in.