Late January brought the first gray light of the spring dawn. For a few hours at midday one could read a paper by window light, recognize a friend’s face at fifty paces, and look out for half a mile across the ribbed ice of the sea. In February a fiery red eye winked over the southern horizon, turned the ice and snow to the loveliest pale gold, and disappeared. The sun was returning.
True, the winter was but half over. The worst blizzards and the most bitter temperatures of the year were yet to come. The snow would blanket the land until June, and sea-ice would lock the shore until July. But the back of the Long Dark was broken, and from now on the days would lengthen rapidly. So the Eskimos sometimes found heart to smile. If they could hold on for four months—just for four months—they co
