Free Ashes and Ice by Tracie Peterson

arisen. Adrik’s sense of the situation was confirmed as he listened to his friends speak out.
    “Snows are very dangerous,” one Indian told him.
    “There’s gonna be slides,” another muttered. “Ain’t gonna stay up here. Goin’ back down.”
    Adrik nodded. He knew as well as his friends did that the trails were threatened by avalanches. The warm temperatures were making the newer snows less stable.
    “I’ve tried to explain the situation to our rather ignorant—perhaps shortsighted—employers,” Adrik told the men, “but they don’t care. The fever has them and gold is all they can think on. Safety means nothing.”
    “We won’t pack their goods,” Joe announced to his friend. “Money isn’t worth a life.”
    “I agree,” Adrik said in a tone of exasperation. “I don’t blame you for sitting this out. I’m not risking my life, either. The next few days are going to prove the situation one way or another. Look, it’s Saturday night. Why don’t we put our lots together and feast. We’ll let the cheechakos figure this one out for themselves.”
    Dyea Joe nodded and picked up his things. “There’s gonna be big trouble if they keep climbing to the summit.”
    “Plenty big,” another man joined in.
    Adrik knew the risks. Already the weather was changing. As was typical of the area, the changes came quickly and dramatically. Heavy clouds had moved across the sky to blot out the sun. He could only nod and lend his silence to signal his agreement. Adrik greatly admired their knowledge of the land and their seeming sixth sense for danger. He had worked hard to learn from them, to take their bits of wisdom and use them to better his own existence. Now, as he tried to share such wisdom with others, he was met with disbelief and total disregard.
    No one cared that the threat of an avalanche was so great that the Tlingits not only refused to move goods up to the Scales, they were heading well out of the established gathering and down to Sheep Camp. Adrik was moving as well. He knew their advice to be sound, and he cherished his life too much to risk it in pride or greed. Sheep Camp sat in the narrow valley between impressive mountains. The canyon offered no real place of escape, as was evidenced in earlier floods of Sheep Camp. But if the snowslides came from the summit, almost three thousand feet above them, they’d most likely not cause problems that far down the trail. He hoped.
    Gathering his tent and a few supplies, Adrik followed the small group down the trail. The going was tough because the snow had started up again and the wind blew bitterly against their faces. Adrik didn’t mind the hard climbs and descents, but he generally refused to travel when the weather was difficult. The heavy clouds stole the light from their path, and as night came upon them, Adrik was more than ready to pitch his tent and take his rest. The lantern light from the Seattle and Golden Gate restaurants perked up his spirits. He didn’t plan to pay the exorbitant price for a meal there, but the light meant civilization and the end of his journey.
    As if they’d prearranged the setting, the Tlingits and Adrik worked to put the camp in order beside the Taiya River. Soon a blazing fire warded off the night’s worries and the chill. Sheltered among the fir, pine, and aspen, the winds and snows seemed less threatening. Adrik ate heartily, grateful for the dried reindeer meat and beans offered to him by Dyea Joe. Canned peaches were passed around the camp, and Adrik lanced a half peach with his knife and stuffed it into his mouth. The juice was icy cold and trickled down his face into the stubble of a newly growing beard, but nothing had ever tasted better.
    “Say, I’ve got some biscuits left over from morning,” Adrik suddenly remembered. Unwrapping a bundle from his coat pocket he added, “They’re soaked in bacon grease and ought to warm up nice.” He skewered several of the hard biscuits on a branch and held