I follow his gaze that drifts down the ridge. Someone bundled in gray faux fur hikes towards the hut, and as my dad relaxes more and more, I know it can only be one person. I climb out of the water. Cold bites every inch of exposed flesh. I shiver and quickly put on my pants, shirt, jacket—the works. I bet they know what I’m about to do. No one protests as I leave and run down the slope, snow past my calves. I skid on a patch of ice but keep my balance. Wind slaps my face, and right as I round one corner, I startle the gangly, fur-clad figure. “OhmyGod!” she shrieks, wide-eyed, and then
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