Marcello looks at across his domain through long, dark eyelashes that are crusted with ice. The wind has blown all day and night, and the snow that started sometime after midnight is plastered to his right side. Glancing down at himself, he wonders if some crazy shearer has gotten to him, doing only one side.

I'm not sure what happened, but I'm pretty sure it's your fault.

As grey dawn breaks over the ranch, he forces his stiff legs to move, and stumbles into the barn. Tucking himself into as small a space as possible, he tries to remember if he was ever warm, ever happy.

48 hours earlier…

So warm. So happy. Oh dirt, I love you. Oh sun, caress my body. Glorious day, I shall never forget your sweet embrace.