You follow the river downstream, and the woods begin to thin. Soon they part to reveal an enormous lake, frozen and still. A small island crouches in the middle of it, boasting a few trees and large boulders. It’s late twilight, and in the soft light, the path across is deceptively simple.

“Crossing over the lake and camping on that island tonight will keep us safe from predators walking the woods.” Halpra explains.

“Ugh. Not more ice,” groans Roth.

Fortunately, the ice on the lake is reassuringly solid, cattail stems poking through it like broken black needles. The moon rises and the wind picks up, sending little eddies of snow that twist and writhe on the frozen surface. The small island draws closer.