Nautika: Áddjá, are you going to go to that maze again? Are you going to break something off that big piece of rock this time?
Nautika: Oh! I'll rewrap the handles of your pickaxe and hammer with new ropes. Nice and tight! You're definitely going to need them!
The excitement over her grandfather's heading to Antarctica steals away all chance of sleep.
Day and night, she pores over the materials—her great-grandfather's journals, explorers' biographies, research papers, and specimen photos.
She closes her eyes, not to sleep, but to imagine herself crunching over those far-off glaciers, new questions popping up with every step.
Rolf: Alright, alright, ráhkis.
Rolf: We shouldn't worry about these things for now.
Nautika: But ...
Rolf: How about we blow out the candles?
For now, she swallows her curiosity, puffs her cheeks, and blows out the candle.
Nautika's Diary: This is it! My fifteenth birthday! Old enough to register for the race!
Nautika's Diary: And just in time too, because I have my own reindeer now! I even carved her a name tag.
Nautika's Diary: But there's something more important—Áddjá's leaving for Antarctica again.
Nautika's Diary: Oh, I wish he'd take me with him!
Nautika's Diary: If only I'd turned nineteen today instead.
Villager I: Nautika! Tie that rope tighter! Don't lose yourself or your reindeer out there!
Villager II: Nautika, mu ráhkis, do be careful. We don't want to see you get hurt ...
Villager II: Even if you don't get first place, there'll still be a wreath waiting for you!
A wreath woven from white arctic flowers and bright bluebells nestled into green boughs—a prize for bravery.
There stands Nautika, the girl they watched grow up, gripping the reins for the first time at the starting line.
Both she and her reindeer seem a size smaller than the other competitors.
The crowd compensates with showers of cheers, encouragement, and affection.
Villager I: Go for it, Nautika! Let's see what your feisty little reindeer can do!
Villager II: Watch out for branches and go slow over the gravel, ráhkis!
Rolf: Deep breaths, Nautika.
Rolf: Close your eyes. The Mother Spirit will show you the way.
The starter raises both arms, whistle already pressed to his lips. One sharp breath will send the reindeer charging across the tundra.
Nautika grips the reins. Her heart is pounding.
Nautika: Áddjá, if I—
Nautika's Diary: If I'd found the fossil that day, if I'd shown you I was ready to be a real researcher, would you have decided to take me with you?
Nautika's Diary: And if I do win this race. If I prove that I have the courage and strength to do it ...
Nautika's Diary: Will you change your mind?
The whistle blows, cheers erupt, and a cloud of snow bursts up beneath the reindeer's hooves. The momentum lifts Nautika straight into the air.
The questions she wants to ask, her grandfather's concerned face—everything is left behind in the wind.
Nautika: Ah—aaahhh!
Nautika: T-Too fast!
Villager I: Oh no ...
Villager II: Nautika!
Their speed is incredible.
They overtake every reindeer, every competitor. Against the howling wind, Nautika feels the trembling in her legs as she steers her skis.
She looks up again. The little reindeer pulling her is all but swallowed up in the blinding glare of powdery snow. Pride and fear swell in her chest as she attempts to rein her in.
Nautika: If I can win this race ...
Nautika: H-Huh?!
The reindeer drives forward, her head low, losing all sense of direction and swinging off-course.
Nautika: No, no, no—wrong way!
Nautika: S-Slow down! No, stop!
She clutches the reins hard, trying to wrest back control, but it's too late.
Before she knows it, the reindeer has pulled her down the slope and into the snow-covered woods.
Branches whip at her, slicing her face with every stinging lash.
Nautika: panting Please stop—
Her vision shakes violently—until the cliff's edge, until her feet leave the ground—
Her feet slam to the ground once more, the snow thankfully absorbing the impact of her weight. Darkness begins to creep in.
Nautika: If I do win the race ...
Dusk is falling.
Villager II: Nautika ... please be safe.
The wreath's leaves are dulling fast in the fading light, its soft petals curling inward and wilting ominously.
Rolf: We're going back into the mountains.
Villager I: Get more people. Quick! Light's fading fast.
Friele: We're coming too!
Aase: Nautika's going to be alright ... I know she is.
Rolf: Mother Spirit ... please guide Nautika safely back to us.
His face is a mix of piety and fear.
The track this year was a mess of slush; many competitors slipped and fell over the course of the race.
But it was the youngest competitor who drew the most attention, with her lightning-fast start and quick disappearance into thin air.
Excitement turned to confusion, then slowly to panic, as it became clear their would-be winner had gone missing.
Snowfields. Slopes. Woods. Searchlights flare, but the swirling snow swallows their beams, and the howling of the wind shreds every shout.
Rolf: Nautika! ... Nautika!
Friele: Nautika, where are you? Nautika!!
Aase: Nautika!
The growing flurry buries any clues, yet hope clings stubbornly in their chests.
Nautika is nowhere to be found.
Time is ruthless and consuming. Nautika's life, and her people's hopes, flicker like a candle in the wind.
Rolf: No ... please, Nautika ...
Rolf: I can't ... not like this ...
Rolf: Mother Spirit, hear my prayer. Please bring Nautika back. Please ... bring my little treasure home.
GAMEPLAY
Five days on from her disappearance, just as the ship to Antarctica is about to set sail, unexpected news arrives.
Villager I: Rolf! Rolf!
Every day since that day, he has prayed to his goddess, pleading for Her mercy.
Rolf: Mother Spirit, hear my prayer ...
Villager I: I-It's Nautika! She ... She's back!
Rolf: ...
Rolf: Nautika!
Nautika: ...
Nautika appears at the door, trembling, hollow-eyed. She's barefoot, her clothes stained with blood.
Rolf: Nautika ... my dear girl, are you alright?
Nautika: ...
Rolf: Shhh ... it's okay, you're safe now.
Nautika: Áddjá ...
Rolf: Blessed be the Mother Spirit in Her mercy ...
Rolf: She has brought Her child back to us ...
He envelops her in his arms. Just to feel the faint breath rising in her chest feels like a miracle.
His unwavering faith hears an answer.
Rolf: Nautika ...
Nautika: ...
Perhaps she had lingered too long at the edge of death to feel any joy in surviving.
Only her grandfather's voice, calling her name again and again, yanks her back from the dark's edge.
Nautika: ...!