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sinking into her core and she could feel her last reserves of energy fading. In a few moments she would be in the hole. Strangely, she felt at peace with her situation.
    About thirty feet upstream of the hole Liana crested a large wave and could see the enormity of it for the first time. The hole surged almost mechanically and Liana took one last gasp as she dropped over the lip and slid into the exploding maw. She closed her eyes as she plunged weightlessly into the void and was swallowed by its icy turbulence. Liana tumbled violently in the foam below the surface of the river. The frothing face of the collapsing wave forced her to spin wildly several times. At first the water was white and turbulent and then everything became dark and still. The sound of the rapids finally quieted, and she was washed to the surface of the river. Amazed by her luck and that she was still alive, Liana gasped for breath as her face broke the calm surface of the river. Liana had been spit out of the hole and into its wash. She could see daylight and hear the rapids fade slowly into the distance.
    Liana looked upstream and could see the canoe was still in the hole. It spun helplessly end over end. Then the canoe stood almost straight up in the air momentarily before it broke into two pieces with a sudden thrust.
    She gasped for air and kicked her feet. The cold water made all her motions feel exaggerated and pointless. She was being pushed downstream while watching the carnage in the canyon when her feet hit something. It was a rock. At the same time, her knee painfully glanced another rock. She turned her head and saw that she had washed onto a small island. She struggled onto her knees and slowly crawled up the snow-covered gravel. She lay on her side, heaving water and convulsing.
    Liana shivered uncontrollably, her lips blue, and slowly stood to face the river. Trying to gather her wits, she staggered away from the bank to an enormous log and collapsed beside it. She sat still for several minutes in disbelief.
    Liana reached for the knife she wore on her waist. With relief she felt the familiar rosewood handle of her father’s blade; it gave her a sense of security. She took it from its sheath and held it in the sunlight. It was old but she kept it razor sharp and lightly coated in oil so that there wasn’t even a fleck of rust on its blade.
    Her upper body was protected by one thin woolen undershirt, one woolen buttoned shirt, and a heavy mackinaw jacket. Her lower body was encased in wool long johns, and her head was warmed by a slouch hat. Her outer trousers were wool, secured with a thin, brown leather belt. There were good wool socks under her knee-high leather boots.
    The sun shone brightly and eventually she stood and took off her soaking jacket and then her pants. Her skin was white and pale and covered in goose bumps, and she gnashed her teeth in convulsive shivers. She leaned forward and wretched water and bile until her chest ached. Her head spun and she gasped for air as she shivered and wept. She wobbled to her feet and started wringing her shirt in her numb hands.
    “I could be gone in a day,” she thought in a moment of fierce clarity. The wind gusted across her chest and she thought she felt colder than she ever could have imagined. Sharp crystals of snow stung her bare skin and her ears rung. Above her, thin grey clouds were stacked like cordwood but the sky was bright and hopeful.
    Liana draped the wet shirt over her shoulders and slid her arms into soaked sleeves. Her shivering fingers were barely able to do up the buttons. With the same determination, she wrung out her jacket and slid on her pants and socks. When she was done she burst into tears. Her staccato sobs and gasps were swallowed by the lonely forest. She stepped backwards and leaned against the log, exhausted and frozen.
    She was too tired to weep for long and slowly caught her breath and stopped shivering. She turned to gaze upstream at the end of the