Western Hunting Journal, Sneak Peak WHJ_Short - Page 44

TRAIL’S END The Big Finish I E. Donnall Thomas Jr. 88 didn’t need a thermometer to tell me it was cold. Stars twinkled busily through the rarified air overhead, and my boots don’t make dry snow squeak beneath them un- less the temperature has fallen below zero. By the time we reached the spring-fed slough, condensation from my breath had left my beard caked in ice beneath my woolen ski mask, and Rosy’s frozen whiskers formed a silver ring around her muzzle in the early morning light. Lori, my wife and regular hunting companion, had grown quiet, which is her stoical way of letting me know she’s freezing. The time was early January and we were at Montana’s Ce Ʌ݅䁙͠ɕѼЁ屔)]MQI8!U9Q%9)=UI90)5Ёѽɥ́͡ɔͥ)Սɔ聄)Qͅ)݅ͅѕəݰ)͕ͽ̸Qѥѥ)䁥͕́ѡ)ݥѠ́ݸ)ѕЁɥ́յ)ݕѡȁȁ)ɑ́ѡЁٔЁѼɥٔ)ɽѡѠ ѡ)ѡ͕ͽѡ́ɔ)ѡȁݡѕٕȁд)́ȁ͡ѥՙɕ)MՉ͍ɥѼɕɔ