"I’d like to sleep but it wouldn’t be the smart move," Mitchell said, trying to stay conscious until he had regained body heat. "I’m not as young..." His eyes had closed, he forced them open and reached to pull up on an elbow with the sail tie. His forehead touched his hand and he opened his eyes again. He reached for his thigh and pressed his hand against the coolness in his skin. Then he hiked the blankets up and gazed out at the dawning. "Thank you," he whispered to something other than the spectacle. He lowered himself into the warmth of the blankets, to take his chances...

He was on the ground in a blizzard. Snow whipped his face like birdshot. He didn’t remember falling but his legs were buried. Where am I? He knew he was freezing. A small square of yellow light. Pull for it man, one elbow then the other. Drag yourself. Pull hard. Talons of cold deepened inside his chest. Pull harder, faster. That’s my lamp in the window above the dry sink. Why am I so far from the cabin? I won’t make it up the ramp. Pull goddamnit. For Christ sake pull. Too much snow, too much wind. Get under the porch to the tar paper and cover up. Keep pulling. Pull deeper. Deeper. Deeper...

He woke in evening darkness to a loud clinking of glass. Shrugging off the blankets he reached for the sail tie and pulled himself up. Andy was standing in the galley using a knife to eat from a jar of peanut butter.

"What day is it?" Mitchell asked.

Andy cleaned the knife with his teeth. "Same day we dropped anchor."

Mitchell smiled. "Nice to be here."