Cold north

John wrapped his coat tighter around him as he struggled forward in the snow. The cold had only gotten worse since they got out of the forest and onto the plains, and the icy winds chilling their bones didn't make it any better. He noticed how the men seemed to be on the verge of giving up, and he had thought about doing so as well. The only thing carrying him on was his will to complete his mission, and even that was starting to fade. He had no idea if they were even going in the right direction; his old magnet compass had long since stopped working. They could be going in circles for all he knew.

It had been days now since they left the comforting heat of the ship cabins, which now rested on the bottom of the sea. He had been standing only a few feet away as it sank, watching the top of the sail as it was slowly pulled into the depths. The food supplies were about to run out and their chances of survival were decreasing by the hour.

Just as he was about to order the men to set up camp the heavy winds seized a little, and he was able to see further into the distance. His heart almost skipped a beat as he saw the highly welcomed silhouette of the federation camp in the distance, and he knew they were saved. After a short frantic march, draining the men's last strength, they finally reached the settlement, and while the rest of his crew went on to find a meal and a bed, John immediately reported to the commander's office to deliver the news he had almost died for.