T H I R T E E N
I awaken at dawn, slowly peeling open my eyes, colder than I’ve ever been. The cold is unfathomable. I feel as if someone has thrown me into a meat locker and slammed shut the door, and not let me out for a week.
The fire is long-extinguished, now ashes, covered in ice. I look up and see that the entire ground is covered in ice—and that all the trees are covered in ice, too. Everything, down to the smallest branch, hangs with ice. I can’t believe it. An ice storm.
The world is as beautiful as it is cold, everything frozen, shining in the early morning light. I feel as if I’ve wakened in Superman’s palace.
I try to move, and feel my body covered in ice, stuck to the tree. I raise my arms and shoulders, and I break off small particles of ice. Ben has fallen asleep beside
