No one said crossing Alaska in search of gold was going to be easy. But Jack, oh poor Jack, he got the worst of it. The poor bastard manages to fall down a snowy hill onto a frozen lake, then proceeded to break the ice underneath his feet while trying to retrieve his book bag, and now found himself soaked. His skin went pale, lips nearly as blue as his eyes. You had to pause your adventure for a few hours at least, setting up camp as the sun set.

Jack sat next to the fire you'd started with pages of his books, blanket draped around his shoulders, sipping on pine tea. It tasted awful, but it kept the heart pumping. You'd helped change him into some dry clothes, watching at the color slowly returned to his face.

But it wasn't enough. He cleared his throat, grabbing your attention. ".. Could you come here? For a while? The cold won't leave my bones.."