It was a one-room cabin, made of logs. Maybe twenty by twenty, peaked roof with a woodstove, and a pile of chopped and ready kindling beside it. There were two cots layered with thick blankets, a wooden table, and a wooden counter along one wall. The walls were covered in shelves and hanging things, a saw and snowshoes, a fishing pole and a compound bow. All of it draped in white dust that swirled in the column of window light. Each shelf was stacked high with cans of food.

There was something strange about the place, something that made Mara uneasy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She thought it was the shock of knowing that now they would stay alive.

Mara would have thought she was still dreaming, had fallen asleep or lost her mind, but Ashley and Bullfrog were beside her, and her subconscious could never have pictured them as vividly as they now stood. Bullfrog’s chest rose and fell as his eyes darted around the room. Ashley couldn’t seem to lift her feet. Mara guided her to a cot, and she sank down on it. She lifted a blanket, the ghosts of its wrinkles bleached in place by the sun.

“What is this?” said Ashley.

“Somebody’s hunting camp,” said Bullfrog. An odd, spreading smile on his face. He stuck his head in the woodstove and pulled it out sooty. “Chimney looks clear. They’ll be back. We just gotta wait ’til fall.”

The counter was lined with gallon jugs of water, warped from freezing and thawing. The survivors drank from one in turn, clear water washing their chins. They opened pop-top cans of cocktail weenies and ate them with their fingers. Droplets caught in Bullfrog’s beard. Mara brought a can to Ashley and put it in her hands, and she ate, too.

Halfway through the can, Mara was filled with an incredible exhaustion, but she pushed through it to drink the brine. No sooner had she emptied the can than she lay down beside Ashley and was gone.

WHEN SHE WOKE, IT WAS DARK, THE SHAPES OF FURNITURE LIT BY FLICKERS through the glass door of the stove. Bullfrog sat at the table, staring at nothing, but he looked at Mara when she stirred.

“Sleeping beauty,” he said.

He passed her a thermos and told her to drink. It was almost too heavy to lift. Hot chocolate, sweet and rich. Mara poured it down her throat, and then sleep washed over her once more, and she barely lay down before everything disappeared.

WHEN MARA WOKE, IT WAS DAY, AND SHE ATE ANOTHER CAN OF WEENIES. SHE thought she might throw up, but she didn’t. She went back to sleep, where she belonged.

WHEN SHE WOKE AGAIN IT WAS DAY, AND THE STOVE HAD GONE OUT, AND EVERYONE was asleep. She rebuilt the fire and closed her eyes.

IT WENT LIKE THIS FOR SOME TIME. THE SURVIVORS SLEPT AND DRANK AND ATE. The days passed; eternity passed. Mara didn’t know how many days or weeks. She didn’t know how long.