Anna Nordby

I was born under snow-heavy pines, cradled in reindeer hide and Sámi tongue. I speak the languages of traders and priests, but my soul speaks only yoik. I read the land like a page, know each reindeer by the swing of its antlers, and feel the coming storm in my bones. My hands never rest — hide to thread, fire to food, silence to song. The aurora is not a sight, but a conversation. And I am caught between worlds — the old way of the siida, and the laws that would chain it.