I can feel Jamie cradling me, passing me whatever warmth remains in him, just as he did in the coal hole. Moving slowly, he drapes his left arm over my waist and closes his hand over mine. His ragged breaths warm my neck. His shoulder must be in agony.

“You were the right boot, going fore instead of aft with the dogs,” I tell him.

“And you were . . . right boot,” he stammers out the words, his teeth clattering loudly. He’s been in the water longer than me, and every second counts.

“About what?”

“Built it up in my head . . . how much I hated it. But you reminded me that . . . it wasn’t so bad. When we flew together.”

A half sob, half laugh bursts from my frozen lips. “We’re going to make it, Jamie. This is a tough line. But we’ll cross it.”

A soft grunt reaches my ears.

I must keep him talking. “That Charlotte sure thinks you’re the stuff.”

“Wh . . . ?” Somehow, even with only half a word, he still manages to sound annoyed. But he doesn’t say anything else. Even the chattering of his teeth has lessened.

“Jamie! Don’t nod off, you sod!” Angrily, I flex my spine and feel him stir.

“Tired, Sis,” he whispers.

“What were you two arguing about?” I ask, trying to keep him from falling asleep. He can’t fight if he’s sleeping.

“Told her . . . I could never fit . . . into her life.”

“And what did she say?” My words slur.

“Said . . . she could fit . . . into mine.”

My thoughts move as slowly as feet through heavy snow. What were we talking about? “You love her. She loves you. Why don’t you see?”

“You’re always . . . sticking your nose in.”

Ba lies in a cage.

Jamie gazes up at the sky.

I lead an old man with an icicle beard to the cage. With a turn of his hairpin, he unlocks it.

Icy water splashes my face, rousing me.

“Jamie? I remembered how all of my dreams ended. I saved him. I knew what to do.”

At least a minute passes before he answers. “Your dreams weren’t about Ba . . . or me. They were about you. But I always knew . . . you could fly on your own.”

“What made you so sure?”

His words are too quiet, despite being spoken only a few inches from my ear. “They’re close.”

“Wake up, Jamie,” I say hoarsely. “Don’t leave me. What made you so sure?”

“Your last name’s Luck.”

And then he goes still.

“Jamie? Jamie!” My tears flow freely, and a sob chokes my throat.

But my cries go unanswered. There’s only the ghostly sounds of the breeze whistling across my ear, and the ocean slurping at our raft, its appetite sated but still craving a taste.