Day 11: So cold.
The smoking, skeletal remains of the crashed sleigh are poor shelter. Yet, to be more easily spotted by a search plane, I have resisted wandering. I am now convinced of sabotage. I wrack my brain for suspects, but fumes from the plastic toys burned for heat have dimmed my faculties. The toy radio I rescued taunts me in silence for my policy against including batteries.
Thank Loki, two of the reindeer survived the initial crash. Their venison has kept me alive. My Donner party joke did not go over well.
His sad eyes haunt my dreams.
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