"Go back, Matei," Luca whispered, his breath visible in the freezing air. "Get help before the snow covers the path."

Matei spent the night rubbing Luca’s hands to keep the blood flowing and singing to keep him conscious. When the search party’s torches finally flickered through the mist at dawn, they found the two boys huddled together, frozen but alive.

One harsh winter, a heavy mist settled over the valley, and a prize sheep from Luca’s family flock went missing. Without hesitation, Matei grabbed his coat. "We find it together," he said.

Matei didn't move. He knew that by the time he returned with the village elders, the mountain would have claimed his friend. Instead, he sat down beside Luca, wrapping his own heavy wool cloak around both of them. He began to sing—a low, steady melody of an old folk song about the strength of the earth.

"I am not leaving," Matei said. "If the mountain wants one of us, it has to take both."

In a small village tucked between the rugged peaks of the Carpathians, there lived two boys, Luca and Matei. Though they were not born of the same mother, the villagers called them Fratti —brothers—because they were never seen apart.