The air had gone from brisk to bracing to bone-chilling. Freezing rain formed a thick solid layer on my jacket. Any enjoyment of this climb was quickly disappearing. I picked up Frodo and held him securely in his sling, drawing from his warmth and giving him mine.

My jaw ached, as if it were set in concrete, my teeth clenched in the stone cold. My right ankle throbbed. The air was raw—it felt like a power outage at a North Dakota morgue in January. I longed to warm my hands around a hot cup of anything. I blew on my fingers but couldn’t feel my breath. The days of electric heat seemed a distant memory—right then I’d have settled for a little propane stove or even a cigarette lighter.

My fatigue came not just from the steepness of the slope—I wasn’t as fit as I’d believed. Not only was I carrying a load, I was winded, my back strained, legs cramped, my left shoulder killing me, my right side bruised, and my ankle sprained. Aside from the sprain, these were not new ailments created by the climb, but old ones exposed by it. The climb showed me I was weaker, more needy than I’d supposed. I didn’t like the feeling.

Darkness fell like a huge icicle from a roof. The swirling wind and the narrow ledge made it impossible to build a fire. We were too cold to sleep, and we didn’t dare try. We had to keep moving. Images assaulted my semiconscious mind. I was a sailor on the Bering Sea. Then I was a prisoner in a drafty Scottish dungeon in the dead of winter. I was an explorer in Antarctica. Lapland. Siberia. The Yukon. Green Bay. Duluth. The hood and pockets of my jacket offered no more warmth. I longed for a ski mask and decent gloves. I should have been better prepared.

Where’s the King? Why isn’t he helping us?

I wished I had a magic lamp, so I could rub it and make a genie appear to grant me wishes. But the Woodsman didn’t work that way. He was unmanageable, unpredictable, unruly. Not only did he not do what I wanted, he never seemed compelled to explain himself to me.

Frozen air stung my face like a horrid insect. My body felt like a freezer bag, my internal organs frozen artichokes, cauliflower, and peas. I prayed, reminding myself the King was listening. The book said so. Shad said so. It was true—wasn’t it?