When autumn arrives in Transylvania, the air grows sharp and metallic, and the forests shed their color until only the stone of the mountains seems alive. Smoke rises from the first hearth fires, curling above tiled roofs and lingering with its sweet scent in the cold. In the West, this is the season of Halloween I am familiar with - a celebration of ghosts, costumes, and death. In Romania, the same chill carries something older. There are no pumpkin lanterns or suburban tric

Wolf, shadow of the forest, you move where men dare not linger, eyes burning with the fire of old banners, breath rising like smoke from...

HearthFinder is about building and protecting hearths—whether that means starting a new life abroad or finding ways to stay safe where...