Trance

I'm beginning to think the furrow will never end. Because of our losses, we've got more than enough supplies for a long stay; hunger and thirst aren't what we need to worry about.

Melanie is almost catatonic. She can sit and walk, but that's about it. Her right hand is constantly clamped on her left wrist, and she mutters to herself continuously. I can't make out the words.

I haven't slept since Ivana woke me. If I could only gather my wits and concentrate, I'd be able to turn us around. As it is, all I do is clump steadily onward. I feel like I'm in a trance, stuck in a pattern from which there's no escape.