With every step I took, the bitter cold settled deeper and deeper into my bones. The snow was relatively fresh, and there was certainly more of it here than the light dusting we’d had for days back home. Each step felt like I was walking on tiny, ice-cold needles. It was dark, but the moonlight illuminated our surroundings well enough—there was no canopy of leaves overhead.
I eventually began to shiver, as Reid and I trailed behind Copeland. Reid noticed, of course, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. As usual, he was warm.
“What do you want to do, Nat?” he asked, his voice hushed.
“I don’t know yet.”
I was growing increasingly conflicted. Copeland had tunnel vision, and I really could sympathize. Every time my feelings of annoyance and disbelief at his behavior began to over
