Fiction about somewhat peaceful antarctic native population who use lichen for heating and as ritual drugs (very odd "space eating itself" and temporal effects) and have an extremely violent mythology
From the viewpoint of a 19th century French woman
Live in pykrete-but-with-lichen ("likrete"?) houses, not igloos
Somewhat-domesticated penguins and seals
Transport via likrete not-quite-sleds
a Schelling point for those who seek one