I inspect my ankle and foot in the faint light from the oil lamp on the shelf above me. The skin is unbroken, but grotesquely swollen and bruised. I very gently run my fingers across where the fracture seems to be, and even the lightest touch provokes an onslaught of pain. I open the bathroom cabinet where I discover that Leah thankfully kept an impressive supply of painkillers. There’s ibuprofen, paracetamol, codeine and, impressively, oxycodone. I take two dry – there’s no water in the tap – Leah must have a summer cistern or get it delivered in tanks for the warm season. Cabins like this one often don’t have water in the winter – the pipes would freeze. In the cupboard I also find sterile compresses and bandages. I manage to stand up for a moment, catching sight of myself in the small mirror. My face is swollen and almost unrecognizable. The skin is broken in several places, with mud and pine needles pressed into the cuts and scratches. I spit on my finger and rub the dirt away gently before sticking the compress over the entire side of my face. I hold my own gaze for a long moment, almost mesmerized by the terror in my own eyes. It’s okay, I tell myself. It’s going to be okay.

I lower myself very gently to the ground and crawl into the main living space, and when I take infinite care to not brush against anything with my ankle, the pain is just about manageable. Like I thought I remembered, there are some scraps of kindling in the wood basket by the hearth. I choose the longest and firmest pieces and press them gently in place to support my ankle in a splint, while winding the bandage tight. When I finish, the pain has softened somewhat, probably a combination of the bandage and the Oxycodone. I sit by the side of the hearth, in the exact place I imagined Leah before, singing to herself and drawing warmth into her body. I layer four logs with kindling in between and place some scraps of old newspaper into the gaps between them. When I strike a match it takes immediately, sending big flames leaping into the chimney.

I sit here for a long while, feeling warmth return to my limbs. Occasionally I look across the room through the little grid windows at the dark night beyond. All the clouds have disappeared now, leaving a huge moon hanging high in the sky. The snow has stayed on the ground and the little clearing sparkles in the moonlight. It must be getting late, though how late, I can’t tell without my phone. Nine o’clock maybe? Eirik might be back at his hotel after dinner. Maybe he’s trying to call me. My phone will ring from under a thick cloak of snow, if it even works still.