Jack rubbed his hands together vigorously, but gave up after a minute or two—his hands were too wet. He attempted to put his gloves on again, but the ice rendered them unwearable. His sled lay at the bottom of the channel, at least he managed to free the dogs before it sank. Ice filled boots flaming with frost, he slowed with each step. Soon crawling. Then face down in snowpack. How long? Who cares. He pushed himself up. Eyes frozen shut. A rosy white light burned through the eigengrau. Strange, God’s voice sounds like a helicopter.
“We’ve found him.”