The makeshift sail swelled under the chilling wind blowing off the ice-capped mountains. Still, she was sweaty. Southeast Alaska was one of those weird places where the tips of your ears could be crisp-fried to a crackling crunch while your toes were frozen to the point of tissue destruction. It seemed as if everyone who spent time here was frostbitten sooner or later. Fingers, toes, or cheeks. She unsnapped the rubber skirt and rolled it back. Sweat, she knew, could freeze, like any kind of water. Some natives used the freeze-dried method for drying laundry: They’d hang wet clothes outside and let them freeze. Then they’d shake out the frozen water, leaving the clothes ready to wear. Cody lowered her sail and glided into a narrow channel. The sandy shores were lost to a corridor of guano-splashed rock. She stared up at steep cliffs that rose so high that the sky was only a thin gray stripe far above. Raw peaks cut into cotton-ball clouds.
