Each blink hurts. My eyelids feel frozen together, unwilling to part after so few hours spent together. The bitter cold of my surroundings wasn’t very conducive to sleep. I can’t see my reflection but I know my skin is dry and cracked and my hair is knotted and greasy. I take in the view in front of me, the cold stone walls hung with icicles, the impossibly tall trees surrounding my little cave no...