Maeve feels a wave of relief wash over her. If she can’t distract herself in the studio, at least she won’t have to sit still all day trying to avoid Dan’s changing mood and her own constant worry. Getting outside will feel good: moving always makes her feel better, and she can see firsthand just what they’re up against.

Sadie gets up and drifts toward the desk. At first Maeve assumes she’s going to gather her things, but no, she just rifles through a file drawer as though she’s looking for something, then leans there, listening.

“It’s possible the access road’s been plowed out,” Dan says. “And if not, it’s a clear day.” He gestures brusquely to Sadie at the desk. “Bring that radio along, we should get a channel no problem.”

“What if a crew shows up and we’re all out on the ridge?” Justin says hazily.

He’s gunning to stay behind himself, but it’s of course Sadie who gets assigned the task. Keep the fire going, stay near the phone, listen for the beep-beep of an emergency road crew. It’s the second time she’s been left behind in two days. If the unsexiness of the job makes her sour, she hides it well, performing her efficiency with a brisk smile. She sets herself up at the desk as though she could just fire up her laptop and get some work done.

But her nails tap against the desktop as the rest of them bundle up for the outdoors. Dan hauls a load of snowshoes up from the basement storage room and shovels out a space at the back exit, enough room for six bodies, bent at the waist, to buckle them on.

Outside, the sun is high and bright, but Sim’s words ring true: there’s a new cold, sharp and biting. From the back door, Maeve can’t see how bad the road looks where the western avalanche has made it impassable. Now she wonders if she really wants to know. The snowshoes are new and streamlined, and, looking around, Maeve realizes she’s been given a child’s pair—Dan guessing at her size. She works to lift her knees so the back edges won’t catch and trip her up, falling into a strange kind of walking rhythm.

“I mean,” she says, as much to herself as to Anna as they tromp through the snow, “it’s only really been a day. Since the power went out. Like, a day and a half, but basically a day. It’s easy to feel trapped up here, but in the scheme of things, it’s not that serious.”