I nodded and scooted up my hat. He reached up with a pad full of hydrogen peroxide and gently dabbed. I blinked, trying to not appear in as much pain as I felt. Sawyer noticed and asked if I was all right. I shrugged, “I don’t know why it has hurt so much the last couple hours.”
Suddenly he stopped dabbing and leaned in for a closer look. “Marshall, come here. Bring your headlamp.” It was still light enough to see objects easily, but details were dim in the growing darkness. I started to feel nervous when Marshall and Sawyer stared at me with wide eyes, and then Ellie appeared, looking between their heads at mine.
Ellie squinted, and after a moment Sawyer said, “Marlee, it appears that there is a small stick in your cut.”
“There’s a stick in my head?” I shrieked.
“Well, not a stick. A miniature twig. Only has the diameter of a few pine needles. And maybe two inches long.”
“What should we do?” Ellie inquired.
Sawyer thought.
“Let me see!” Lydie said.
Marshall said, “Well it could cause an infection. And tenderness is a symptom of infections, so–”
“But,” Sawyer cut in, “if we remove it, it could cause heavy bleeding.”
Infection? Heavy bleeding? I vote ‘no, thank you, to both.’
Ellie piped up, “Won’t cleaning it with peroxide reduce the risk of infection? And by the time an infection would set in, hopefully we’ll be back with our parents and would have the means to properly fight the infection.”
“So at this point,” Sawyer nodded, “blood loss is a greater risk. We have no way to give you stitches, so we need to leave it.”
Stitches?! What a relief that they weren’t going to give me stitches! I certainly didn’t want Sawyer and Ellie and Marshall learning to give stitches, with me as their patient, in the middle of the wilderness.
Sawyer had me take an anti-inflammatory, and noted that our supply in the first aid kit was dwindling rapidly at that rate. Marshall suggested that we start to prepare to huddle up for the night. Marshall explained that the snow walls would protect us from the chilly wind and the cooler night air of the mountains. We would sleep in the trench between two large snow boulders that had settled about six feet from each other. With a tarp draped across the top a few feet above our bodies, we would hopefully stay warm enough to avoid hypothermia. The small fire about five feet from the shelter would also help us. We were all regretting not bringing a survival blanket along. While the daytime temperature had reached close to 70, we anticipated the night temperature to hover just above freezing. I yearned for my cozy sleeping bag.
We began to slowly line up between the fire and the snow shelter that the boys had constructed. Sawyer mildly criticized that it wasn’t textbook-perfect, but that he thought it would keep us warm enough. He explained several other styles of snow shelters, and talked about them like an architect might describe styles of houses. It was like watching those interior design shows where the people are weirdly excited about every detail. I tried to listen and nod with interest, but he lost me after snow saw and something about a T-opening. Since our only digging tools were ice axes and a tiny trowel, our snow shelter looked less like an igloo and more like, um, a last-ditch effort. I mean it looked good enough, for sure. Good enough for survival. Basically our walls were two huge snow boulders. Stretched across the top of the walls was a tarp, which was secured in place by, you guessed it, more snow. One end was the mountainside, and the other end was open to the elements. About five feet from the opening was our small fire. Sawyer had built the fire on top of a few boughs from a spruce tree to keep it from sinking into the snow.
Lydie would be in the middle, with her left leg propped on the snow pillow Marshall and I built. To her right side stood Marshall and then Sawyer. Ellie and I lined up on her left side, Ellie on the outside. That way, our two biggest members were on the outsides, in an attempt to maintain warmth.
The five of us exchanged somewhat awkward glances. In any other circumstance, we would make sure the guys and girls had separate sleeping areas. Very separate. Far enough to not smell each other. However, in this situation, huddling together was for survival. We needed each other’s body heat if we were going to have any chance.
Miraculously, Sawyer had packed along a second tarp. For an emergency, he had explained. This constituted an emergency, and the tarp would be a perfect barrier between our bodies and the snow. While the snow would serve as an insulator, our body heat would cause some melting. The slow melt of the snow against our bodies would form ice, which would not insulate us. Thankfully, the tarp would be enough of a barrier to allow for the insulating factor of the snow and simultaneously prevent ice formation.
Without a word, we lay down in the shallow burrow, the tarp crinkling underneath us. The backpacks stood by our heads as a windbreak. I lay on my side and draped an arm over Lydie’s waist. Ellie wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Sawyer and Marshall were clumped together. So far it was comfortable, but I wondered how long we could hold these positions.
Lydie announced that it was time for bedtime prayers, and even though it was a little awkward, we each took a turn. I thought it was pretty cool how each of us thanked God for His continued help. We prayed for our parents’ peace of mind, for strength to find help tomorrow, and for restful sleep. While we were shy at first, the group-style prayer seemed to re-bond us by the end.
Just as everyone’s eyes were drooping, we saw a meteor shoot across the sky above the trees below us. “Awesome!” Ellie whispered. This was only my second shooting star. My first had been with Dad while we were driving one night a few years ago. Awesome was a mild description for what we just saw. A night sky in the unpopulated mountains is very dark, so stars shine like beacons. With the still nearly full moon lighting up the summit and the meteor, I felt like we had just seen the most beautiful sight ever.
I spoke up, “Even though I’m worried about our parents, I’m really glad to be with all of you.” I saw Sawyer smile, and the others nodded and added their affirmations. Then I sighed, feeling exhaustion overwhelm me as I let my body settle into the crinkly tarp on the thick snow.
8
When I woke up, I mistakenly thought that I had actually slept all night. I felt stiff, as if I had been in the same position for weeks. My head hurt, and I was chilled to the bone. Hoping it was morning, I peeked over Lydie’s shoulder and looked for the moon. It was still in the east. I sighed, realizing that I had probably only slept a few hours, meaning that dawn was still hours ahead. Which meant that the temperature would continue to drop for hours before we felt the warmth of the sun again.
Remembering the fire, I saw that it was a small flicker now. I squinted to see if we had any spare firewood. My halfway sitting up caused Ellie to shift. “Shh,” I whispered, “just going to check the fire.”
She nodded in her sleep, and I slowly crept off the tarp and tiptoed to the fire. Placing a few more tree branches on it, making sure to leave space between the sticks, I realized that even though I was chilly, my fingers and toes were not numb. In fact, they felt relatively comfortable. I was surprised at how well the snow shelter was working. At first I thought it sounded ironic to try to keep warm with snow, but it did seem to be serving as surprisingly decent insulation.
I heard Ellie whisper, “What time is it?”
Before I could answer, Sawyer quietly called, “About midnight.” Startled, I froze in place. I hadn’t meant to wake anyone else.
In a moment, Sawyer and Ellie were at my side. “Thanks for tending our furnace,” Sawyer graciously said. I smiled and yawned.
Ellie took a step toward Sawyer, and I saw his jaw tighten. Ellie noticed too, and her face showed remorse for her earlier blow up at Sawyer. Unexpectedly, Ellie took hold of his wrist and tentatively asked, “Sawyer, I need to talk to you. Is now a good time?”
I ducked my head and backed toward the shelter. Neither Sawyer nor Ellie acknowledged my departure, but I did hear Sawyer catch his breath when Ellie grabbed his wrist. I was curious to know what she would say, so I hoped they didn’t walk out of earshot.
I slipped onto the tarp and wiggled in as close to Lydie as I could.
“I’m sorry,” I heard Ellie humbly say. She sounded sincere, and I decided that she was beginning to understand Marshall’s lesson. I just hoped she wasn’t learning it too late. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, and I feel horrible that I threw the first aid kit at your head.”
I discreetly watched the scene. Sawyer shook his arm free from Ellie’s clutch, shook his head and said, “I’m used to it Ellie. Let’s just get through this trip together and then I’ll stay out of your way.”
Yikes. That had to hurt. My heart ached for Ellie, although I couldn’t blame Sawyer for his cold reply. I expected Ellie to run off crying or to shove him and give him an earful, but she stayed right where she was. After an icy moment, Sawyer curtly tipped his head at her and began to walk back to our shelter. I hunkered down and closed my eyes, hoping they wouldn’t notice my staring.
Suddenly Ellie called out, “Captain,” and I heard Sawyer stop walking, but I didn’t dare to peek until I heard his boots crunch on the snow as he turned to face her again. When I tentatively opened my eyes a crack, I saw him looking at Ellie, and she took a cautious step toward Sawyer. “Captain,” she again said in a hushed voice, and this time he walked to her. My head was spinning wondering what would transpire next.
“I am truly sorry for the mean words I’ve said to you. I am ashamed that I’ve thrown a first aid kit and bandana at you. I wish I could take back the mean things I’ve done to you, Sawyer.” When they were standing this close, I could see that Sawyer was about four inches taller. Ellie’s pretty brown eyes looked up at him as she spoke. “Sawyer, I would understand if you can’t like me after the way I’ve treated you. But I am going to treat you respectfully from now on. You’ve been so great on this trip. You’re like our backbone, Sawyer. And you’ve just,” she struggled for words, “grown up so much, and I forget you’re more of a man and less of a twerp,” she said with a playful smile. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, Sawyer. I don’t want to hurt you.” At the close of her last statement, she looked down, as if embarrassed. “I’m sincerely sorry, and I promise to treat you respectfully.”
Sawyer, who had been warming his hands in his coat pockets, gently reached for Ellie’s hand. My heart jumped to my throat. I heard Sawyer whisper, “I forgive you, Ellie.” With that, Ellie looked up at him and grinned. Suddenly, Sawyer stepped toward Ellie and embraced her in a warm hug. I saw him whisper in her ear, and she giggled. When they finally backed out of their hug, Sawyer’s hands still on my sister’s shoulders, Ellie smiled and said, “Sawyer, I am glad that I agreed to come on this hike with you. Even though the avalanche threw a wrench in the plan, this is quite the adventure, and I’m glad we are in it together.”
Sawyer pulled her into another hug and happily said, “Thank you, Ellie. I’m glad you’re here, too. And,” he added with a grin, “I really like it when we get along with each other.”
