It wasn't evening, not even close, but it was getting dark. The day had started cloudy, a match to Michael's mood, and as they'd traversed the unforgiving landscape of his snow-covered wasteland, those clouds had gathered and grown. Now a storm broiled above their heads, and the snowflakes that had been drifting all day were falling thicker, faster. The wind was picking up, burning their exposed faces and hands. Susanna gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to move quicker than Michael could handle.

It wasn't physical -- nothing was physical for Michael anymore -- it was all in his mind. It was a subconscious delaying tactic. Susanna had seen it a thousand times. Souls dawdled in the wasteland because they were afraid to step into the unknown. A single step that took a lot of courage -- courage the likes of which Michael simply did not possess.

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