Dylan hit the third checkpoint at mid-morning. Just over a hundred miles to go. While the vet went over the team, he listened to the checkpoint crew discussing the weather. The latest reports had them cautioning the mushers that the next storm would come in a lot faster than they’d expected. By tonight, it would be nasty—cold, vicious wind, and heavy snow. They prayed most of the racers would make the finish before the worst of the storm hit, but everyone knew the weather goddess in Alaska was one capricious b***h.
Just then, a volunteer rushed out of the cabin where they had the office set up. This checkpoint was at a village inhabited mostly by Native Americans, but also a few hardy European and American souls who liked living in the most remote and harsh conditions they could find, gen
