When Grey awoke, the howl of the wind had fallen silent and a wan light leaked in through the windows past the thick layer of frost. Within a couple of hours, the villagers had cleared a landing spot for helicopters and the first two landed. Norgard was set to go out on the first one, straight to a hospital in Fairbanks to get his leg checked. It was so badly swollen that the vet had needed to relax the ties on the splint twice.
The big musher was clearly in a lousy mood, especially worried about his dogs. “I ain’t going off to some shittin’ hospital and leaving my team God knows where. They’re my family, my life. How are they going to get home?”
“We’ll find somebody to take care of ‘em until you’re home, Dylan.” That was Jack Portola, the official Grey had sat beside on the first choppe
