In Minnesota, winter is a living thing — cold enough to kill, and silent enough to hear the dead. Ghost stories are carved into the frozen woods and whispered across the cracked, icebound lakes. The spirits of lost hunters, vanished settlers, and ancient tribes prowl the endless night, unseen but never absent. Abandoned cabins rot beneath the snowdrifts, and in the stillness, it’s said you can hear the restless footsteps of those who never found their way home.
