 A black bear, Jack thought, possibly wounded. He approached warily, his feet crunching on the hard crust of three-day snow. Drawing closer, he could see that it was not a bear. It was a man. He was crawling on his knees and elbows and making a low, groaning noise. His clothes were in tatters, his long beard matted, his fingers curled into claws. The skin on his face and arms was thin and translucent, clinging to his bones like wet paper.