CHAPTER TWELVEBeing inside Daniel’s bag with him in the dark felt surreal in the extreme. I wanted to pull myself into fetal position. I wanted to cradle my feet, which—despite the painful, prickly feeling in them—seemed to be less and less attached to me. But there was no way the bag would allow that much movement.
Every time we finished eating or drinking something hot, Daniel turned the stove off. "I've got lots of matches," he said the first time, "and I don't want to waste fuel."
With the stove off—it sounds silly to say this, but it felt huge—there was no light. I could see the white of snow outside our makeshift shelter, but the darkness moved in on me with an intensity that surprised me. What does Neil do, I wondered, when he's hiking, and it's nighttime, and it's dark? Whatever
