Heather Thomas

Relieved at first, anyway.

As we got closer, it became pretty clear that he was way worse off than we were.

He was hunched over, clutching at his stomach like it hurt him.

But what really worried me was he had taken off his boots, and his feet and lower legs were submerged in the rushing water.

That was glacial melt.

It had to be brutally cold.

I didn't know if he could actually get frostbite from flowing water, but his feet must be completely numb by now, and he must be losing body heat like blood from a slashed throat.

My mom hurried forward, shifting into nurse mode, and asked if he was okay, and didn't he think he should take his feet out of the water?

He looked up.

He guzzled from the water bottle at his side.

He mumbled something about not wanting his feet to swell so he could put his boots back on.

His gaze was skittering and wandering, and he kept pausing to drink from his water bottle.

He stopped to refill it right from the stream.

No filter or anything.

The even grosser part was he filled it on his right side, just downstream of his feet.

He pulled it up and took another slug.

I decided to try to get some useful information out of him before my mom got in too deep.

I asked him if he knew the way to Drake Plateau.

Drake, he said, snorting a laugh.

I don't think you're going to find it.