The musk oxen in Dovrefjell seem as if they belong to another time. Massive bodies, dense coats, horns that do not yield even at minus twenty degrees. Between falling snow, a blue horizon, and short, intense clashes between the bulls, it became clear to me that I was not merely observing animals — but a species that has lived with cold for thousands of years. And that today stands within a winter that is changing.

It was one of those quiet mornings that make you get up early, and yet you know exactly why you’re doing it. The sun had only just risen, mist still hung over the meadows, and I was simply looking out for deer among the tall grass. Then, all of a sudden, I realized that someone had been watching me for quite some time. Calm. Alert. A wolf. Not somewhere in Canada—but here. In Germany. And that sense of calm was the most remarkable part of the entire encounter.

Two wildlife photographers travel through western Iceland in search of Arctic foxes. On Hornstrandir, hours of waiting are distilled into a few fleeting seconds. In the fjord, two humpback whales surface so close to the boat that their breath can be heard—and smelled. And when, at 00:36, even the earth seems to fall into the rhythm of the journey, one question suddenly matters: what would they take if they had to leave at once? The answer lies on the bedside table.