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Snowed In: Chapter Eighteen - navessa allen
BEN In Aroostook County, you’re never unaware of the remoteness of the area. It’s more than just the lack of people and buildings. The winds that blow down from the alpine ridges carry a pervasive scent of snow and some indefinable mixture of water and pine and inhospitable wilderness. The bitter cold feels dangerous up here. You plan around it, aware of its killing power in a way you wouldn’t be in a more populated place. With no light pollution, the night sky seems closer, like you can reach up and touch the stars. They’re still out in all their glory this early in the morning, dimmed a little by the alabaster light of the full moon sitting low and pregnant just over the tree line. I stare up at it for a minute after shutting the rear door of the Jeep. It’s easy to imagine, standing here in this land of rivers and mountains, how the local tribes might once have worshipped it in the same way that my own ancestors had. Maybe they even had their own version of Hina in the Moon. The wind picks up, a blast of subzero air buffeting me, and I bring …