All Bundled Up

It was an unusual mission to send three operators for. Reconnaissance in the isolated snow covered village of Skarsfjord in the far north of Norway didn't seem like the kind of job to need three highly trained specialists. But no one was complaining about what was turning out to be a very restful mission. Perched comfortably in a cabin atop a nearby mountain, overlooking the frozen inlet separating them from the village, the team found themselves relaxing in the calmness around them.

The cabin was a perfect vantage point for observing the small town. Though the gang would periodically need to make the trip off the island as the three men repeatedly ate through their supplies. Each trip was frigid as the wind bit at their skin and snow swirled through the air.

"Ùisdean, you can't go out without proper clothing. It's freezing," Kjelvar insisted, annoyance lacing his voice was obvious as he held up a thick pair of snow pants intended for the Boisbéni.

The Swede was well-versed with, if not at home, with the winter conditions they were facing and had ever so thoughtfully packed for the other two. Getting Magnar to dress up warmly was easy. But convincing the Boisbéni continued to be a challenge as at every mention of the warming garments he'd do his best to talk his way out of it.

"Ach, I dinnae need all those layers. 'M fine as I am," Ùisdean grumbled, eyeing the scarf the swede had already dressed himself with distastefully.

An unmistakable voice from behind piped up. "Shut it, Wrench. You'll catch your death if you go out without it. Besides, it's practically a crime around here to not be seen with proper gear! You'll stick out like a sore thumb."

Turning to face the speaker Wrench was met with an already concerningly mischievous grin from Magnar. Rolling his eyes he returned his attention to Kjelvar "I've been fine all these years without fancy scarves and mittens, what makes this any different?"

"Because, even a Boisbéni like you needs protection in this weather Ùisdean. This isn't a Scottish winter weather... And neither Magnar nor I are gonna let you freeze just because you're too stubborn to wear pants," Kjelvar retorted with an exhausted sigh, the recurring argument had been taking it's toll on him.

"Aye!" Wrench cried out proudly, pointing a defiant finger at the man in front of him. "Pants are for the weak! I dinnae need 'em!"

Kjelvar sighed, motioning at Magnar. Before long the two men were looming over the Boisbéni. Wrench began his usual protest seeing Kjelvar holding the snow pants and Magnar with the heavy and thick winter jacket.

"No need for yer nonsense, lads," he griped. "Ye ken it's against my very nature!"

With a combined effort, and plenty of yelling and wrestling, the two were able to wrestle the Scotsman into his winter clothing.

"Now, don't you look dashing?" Magnar teased as he adjusted the scarf around Wrench's neck, pulling it up to cover the Boisbeni's mouth and nose.

"I look like a fool," Wrench muttered, pulling the scarf down so it didn't cover his mouth before it was swiftly pulled back up by the Dane.

"You look like a brave warrior ready to conquer this arctic tundra!" Magnar laughed, his firm hand coming to clap the taller man squarely on the back. 

Wrench stood as the others finished dressing, mumbling threats under his breath before they stepped outside and into the frigid winter air.

Within minutes, Wrench silently acknowledged his begrudging appreciation for the warm clothing. The trio ventured into the snow-covered landscape, making their way down the mountain. Magnar filled the air with his loud chatter as he shared a story about a mountain hike he had taken with his wife earlier in the year.

Noticing the silence from the third, Kjelvar turned to watch Wrench trudge through the snow behind the two men. "See, Ùisdean? Those pants aren't too bad," his smug smirk was easy to see, even under the face covering.

Rolling his eyes, Wrench pushed past the two. "I still prefer the freedom of feelin' the wind on my legs."

The two men chuckled as they then watched the Boisbeni take a wrong step off a snow covered ridge, watching as he sank in the powder up to his chest.

It was going to be a long walk.