Winter made sure we didn't leave the next day. Or the next. And the next. Snow and wind bludgeoned the sides of the tiny cabin, and I thought for sure several times that it would crumble down on top of us.

And Thomas would never admit this, but the trek here likely did his wounds much more harm. He needed to rest.

With nothing left to do, I whittled more arrows by the fire while I studied Thomas's quiet movements, listened to the sound of his breaths, tried to ...