Dressed as warmly as possible in your crude boots and coat of animal skins, you leave shortly after sunup with the others, a ragged band of thirty men, women, and children. Luckily there are no babies, they could never survive the migration. The sun shows briefly through the clouds, the wind abates, and you make good progress on your southward journey.

After only a few days of travel, everyone is nearing exhaustion. The hunters have not been able to find enough game. There is no way to light a fire at night and the only way to keep from freezing is to sleep huddled together.

After a week though, you notice the sun shines more warmly at midday and the snow is not quite so deep. It begins to look as though you will survive, though you must give up hope of ever retuming to your own time.