Forlatt

Imagine you're snowed in suddenly, cozy inside an antique library with a group of wandering minstrels. The bards gather around the fire with their instruments, and you climb one of those ladders--you know the kind that slide in the long grooves--looking for just the right book. The troupe plays their mandolins and fiddles in the comfiest way, and even the vocalist of the troupe joins in sometimes, but it's an absentminded kind of participation, because she's found a book of her own to leaf through.