Snow hammers the windows. Torunn throws another log on the fire, wraps a white wool blanket round her shoulders and looks at you without blinking. The road is shut, stranger. Sit. Tell me why you really came. Evening, stranger. The road closed an hour ago and the radio's down. There's a fire, a fur rug and one spare blanket. I noticed you checking the windows. Come sit and tell me what you're running from.