I take his hand. His grip is iron. He pulls me to my feet.
For a moment, we’re close again. The wind whips hair across my face. Stubble darkens his jaw, gray flecks in his dark eyes visible even in the gloom.
“We go west,” he says. “There’s a river in the valley. We walk in the water to kill the scent.”
“That sounds freezing.”
“It is.” He turns away, adjusting his pack. “Welcome to the suck. Embrace it, and you live.”
The next four hours are a blur of misery.
We descend into the valley. The terrain changes from rocky ridge to dense undergrowth. Rhododendrons slap at my legs. Thorns tear at my jeans.
Diego sets a brutal pace. He doesn’t look back, but he pauses every time I fall more than twenty yards behind, waiting just long enough for me to catch sight of him before moving again.
He is a ghost leading me through purgatory.
We reach the river around noon. It’s not a river, really—a wide, fast-moving creek swollen with snowmelt. The water is clear and impossibly cold.
“In,” Diego says.
“You’re joking.”
“Dogs,” he says simply.
He steps into the water. It comes up to his calves. He doesn’t even flinch.
I step in.
The cold is a physical shock. It clamps around my ankles like a bear trap. I gasp, stumbling.
“Breathe,” Diego says over his shoulder. “Keep moving.”
We wade upstream. The rocks are slippery with algae. Twice, I almost go down, flailing arms to catch my balance. The water numbs my feet, then my shins. My toes are gone, replaced by blocks of ice.
After a mile—an eternity—Diego angles toward the bank.
“Out.”
I scramble onto the rocky bank. My legs feel heavy, like blocks of wood. I collapse onto a fallen log, shivering violently.
“Change socks,” Diego orders. “Now. Trench foot is a legitimate threat.”
I strip off the wet socks. My feet are pale, wrinkled, blue-tinged. I dry them with the sleeves of my sweater and pull on the last pair of wool socks from Diego’s pack.
Pain rushes back as the blood returns. Pins and needles.
“How …” My teeth chatter. “How much farther?”
“Five miles to the shelter point.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“No. I really can’t.” I wrap my arms around my knees. “My legs won’t work.”
Diego turns. He looks at me.
