Chapter 95

• "Dorothy," I called out, hoping she was coherent. Nothing. I removed the socks, disturbed the blanket and found her hands. They were ice-cold when I put the socks on them. I reached up and felt her cheek. She was colder than I was. I tried to slow my breathing and calm my mind. I was questioning if we would make it through the night. The thought did not seem out of the realm of possibility.
• "Dorothy, I hope your husband isn't a big man," I said with chattering teeth. I rolled her on her side, completely destroying the pine needle blanket. I cocked her legs and pulled her hands between her thighs. I scooted behind and reset the pine branches. I spooned with a woman I didn't know, my face buried in her thick hair. My arm wrapped around her, and I tucked my hand under her breasts. "Sorry," I said. Propriety was too cold.
• How we survived that first night, I would never know. I slept fitfully, half my body warm, the backside like an ice cube. My feet felt like they would fall off. If Dorothy had not been there, I was pretty sure I would have died of exposure. She was my survival, physically as well as mentally. Her breath was still steady, for that I was thankful. When the sun began to shine, I crawled out of the hut after reburying Dorothy in branches and needles.