She took off her mittens and unzipped the main compartment of her backpack. An extra neck gaiter was near the top, packed the way she packed everything—by access priority. Her bandanna was in the side pocket. An extra base layer top was rolled tight at the bottom. She had a pair of socks next to the top, but knew they would never fit Jack. His feet were much larger.
From her breast pocket, she pulled out the plastic baggies holding her food. She consolidated what was left of the snacks into one baggie and set the other two by her leg. Without asking, she moved to him and crouched at his feet.
He glanced down at her and then back at the tree line.
“Can you sit flat? On your bottom with your feet out?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine, really.”
She stared at him and waited. He glanced in her direction and rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Steph.”
“Humor me.”
With a sigh, he adjusted his position. She worked carefully, not removing the socks—that wasn’t an option out here, not with the temperature and the distance still between them and any kind of warmth. She was tempted to rub his feet and work the circulation back into them, but the last thing she wanted was to thaw out frozen tissue. That could cause permanent damage.
He might already have permanent damage. She shook her head, as if that could silence the thought.
First, she put the baggie over his left foot. It covered his foot about halfway. Better than nothing. She wrapped the bandanna around the outside of the sock, securing the baggie and tucking everything tight but not too tight. She didn’t want to cut off circulation.
“Feel okay?”
“Honestly, I can’t feel much. That didn’t hurt, though.”
“Can’t feel much?” she repeated. “No tingling or burning?”
“Not anymore.” His tone suggested he knew what that meant as well as she did.
In the early stages of frostbite, commonly referred to as frostnip, the skin feels cold, tingly, and slightly painful. It’s a warning stage and is uncomfortable, but it doesn’t leave permanent damage.
Moderate frostbite might produce a pins-and-needles or burning sensation. The skin itself feels numb and waxy to the touch.
Total loss of sensation is common with deep frostbite. No cold, pain, or discomfort. She was tempted to remove his socks and check the coloring of his skin. Color changes could indicate deep tissue damage, the kind of damage that might be lasting and affect him for the rest of his life. It might even be deadly.
Steph took a deep breath. “Let me wrap the other one.”
She repeated the process with the second baggie and used the fleece neck gaiter to fashion a cover, securing it against itself. Neither the bandanna nor the gaiter was elegant, but they were functional. She’d take functional.
“Thank you.” Jack’s words were genuine, but the tone underneath them had something in it she recognized. The quality of a man accepting help he wasn’t sure he deserved.
She looked up at him.
He was watching the trees, avoiding her gaze.
“We need to take care of your hands.”
Jack handed her his right hand. “I need to be able to shoot.”
She nodded as she took in his fingers. There were spots of white on the pinky and index finger, and his coloring was terrible. She had an extra pair of gloves, but like her socks, they’d be too small. Maybe she could make them work.
She pulled out the gloves. They were a thin material, perfect to wear when running, yet still warm. Steph opened her pocketknife and sliced off the fingers of the right glove.
Next, she pulled the extra base layer from her pack and used the knife to slice it into strips. Jack glanced at her and shook his head. Steph ignored him and continued her work.
When she was finished, she had the fingers of the gloves over each of Jack’s fingers and used the strips to hold everything together. “It’s not pretty, but it seems tight. Can you work the gun?”
He showed her how he could easily slide his fingers into the trigger guard. “It’s perfect. Almost as good as the custom gloves I used for competition.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She smiled. “Let’s do the other hand.”
