Uncover the Secret Delicacy Hidden Beneath Our Feet: The Surprising Truth About Eating Around Worms
Outside, the air hit like something solid. Each breath caught halfway down, sharp and unfinished, as if my lungs had forgotten how to work in weather like this. Snow squeaked under our boots, a dry, brittle sound, more like Styrofoam than anything soft. We moved without speaking, the village shrinking behind us as the white opened wide ahead. I was glad to be doing something. I hadn’t had fresh food in months, and I wanted badly to come back with fish.
At the shoreline, the land flattened into a wind-scoured expanse of sea ice. The ice wasn’t smooth or glassy. It had broken and shoved against itself, leaving rough ridges and heaps of jagged ice across the surface.
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