The sun didn't rise so much as it bruised the horizon. A smear of violet light that failed to warm the air. The temperature inside the tent hovered around zero degrees, kept there only by the sputtering propane heater. Ezra woke with frost in his eyebrows. He blinked, and the ice crystals cracked.
He sat up. His joints protested. The sleeping bag was stiff, frozen stiff where his breath had condensed overnight. Beside him, Mara was still asleep. She clutched the piece of ice to her chest like a child clutches a security blanket. The ice hadn't melted. It hadn't even frosted over. It remained perfectly clear, perfectly cold.
Ezra crawled to the entrance. He unzipped the flap. The wind had died down during the night. The snow was smooth. Undisturbed except for the circular tracks they had
