backpack with flasks and go fill them by the lake.” Sanya finished giving orders and turned away.
Sam strode off for the lake after grabbing several metal flasks. A chilly wind buffeted him as
he made his way across the sand and dirt. Finally arriving at the lake he stared breathlessly at the
intimidating expanse of frozen water. Placing his backpack by the lake, he turned away to catch
his breath. When he whirled around, his backpack was sliding downward toward the lake.
Leaping forward, his fingertips skimmed the edges of the straps as the backpack hurtled
forward, landing on and then sliding across the ice.
Standing at the edge of the lake, Sam shifted uncertainly. The backpack contained supplies
and various important implements. Half-closing his eyes, he tentatively placed one foot on the ice.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Easy now.” Moving forward gracefully, he promptly scooped up the
backpack and tried to ignore the web of cracks that were snaking out from his every footfall.
Pivoting on one foot, he turned toward the banks of the lake.
Gently putting his right foot down on the ice, he almost didn’t process the sound of ice
shattering...and he fell.
Water rushed up around him, swallowing his strangled yell. The lake seemed to intentionally
thwart all his attempts to tread water. Floundering around, Sam choked on the mixture of water
and air he gulped down. Darkness was beginning to claim him when he heard Sanya’s scream:
“SAM!” Redoubling his efforts to stay alive but still resolutely clutching his hefty backpack, Sam
was slowly drowning.
Suddenly he was pulled out, retching lake water as he convulsed violently.
Watching Sam shivering in his soaked clothes, Sanya shook her head and left the tent. Sounds
of struggling promptly ensued as John tried to help his brother change out of his wet clothes.
“Now what?” Tara watched their leader. “We only have a day left until we’re leaving - my
ankle’s twisted and Sam nearly drowned.”
“Your ankle will have to wait until the plane comes and Sam will live. Before we left, I
checked the weather forecast. There was a disclaimer telling people that the forecasts are pretty
generic and not always accurate because the weather changes here can be sudden. But the forecast
did mention a snowstorm tomorrow....”
DAY 6
When they came out of their tents the next morning, a flurry of snow welcomed them. They
appeared to be in some kind of snowstorm that had transpired over night. Zipping her coat up
even tighter around her, Sanya peered into the distance. “Are those - are they - nomadic herders?”
whispered Sanya incredulously, staring into the distance. She could just make out hazy figures
swaying on unidentifiable creatures. Snow started falling harder, obscuring the vague shapes
completely from view.
In the ensuing snowstorm, the nomadic herders stumbled upon their camp. The herders were
warmly dressed in thick coats and trousers, caps half-obscuring their faces. Ten or more goat-like
creatures stumbled around, wandering dangerously near to the flimsy tents. Penning the goats
neatly, the nomads were assisted in setting up camp by Sam and John.
Using the excuse of brewing tea, Sanya faded into the background, venturing out at irregular
* * *
