S mooth, fine-grained arctic clouds undulated slowly like snow drifts 
into the distance, a thousand miles looking like
the width of a front yard, lit but not warmed by a low apricot sun that never 
quite went down. Fiona lay on her stomach on the top bunk, looking out the 
window, watching her breath condense on the pane and then evaporate in the 
parched air.