Trudging out of the puddle, the man found that one of his boots had water in it now. Each of his steps offered a squelch while the water wormed its way through his layered socks. As he walked down the trail, his teeth started chattering. To stop that, he clenched his jaw, and he tucked his chin into his scarf. His whole body shivered instead.

He needed help.

The realization made the man stop. “Call Ma—”

“You are outside the service area of your provider,” the dog interrupted.

“Wonderful. Make a note to get a new service provider.”

It wouldn’t have helped much anyway, the man reasoned. If he called one of the boys for help, they would only end up in a similar predicament as him.

“Noted. You will be reminded in 24 hours unless you specify a different time frame.”

“Call Emergency Services.” The man started walking again. To stay warm, it would be best to keep moving, even if that caused the water in his boot to cover more of his foot.

A ringing tone came from the dog as it followed the man. A heartbeat later, there was a clicking sound.

“You’ve connected to Emergency Services. Please hold while we find an agent who can take your call.” The dog continued playing a repeating series of slow, calm tones.

The man sighed. Perhaps it would be better for him to stay where he was so they could find him. He had a few snacks in his jacket, and now was as good a time as any to enjoy them.

“Put the call with Emergency Services in the background until I’m off hold.”

The dog returned to silence, and the man stopped, uncrossing both his arms. He undid the upper part of his jacket to reach into an inner breast pocket that held a bag of salted nuts. Once he’d gotten it out, he lowered his scarf to hold the bag between his teeth. With one hand, he redid the buttons on his jacket, snapping them closed. Then he dropped the snack back into his palm. His hands were beginning to feel like they were burning.

Frowning, he opened the bag. If only he had a way to warm his hands or dry his gloves. If he could dry his gloves, maybe he’d be able to dry the rest of his clothes as well. But he didn’t have a way of doing any of that…

“How do I build a fire in a forest without supplies?” he asked.

“It is not recommended to build a fire in a forest without the proper safety materials nearby, as it could lead to forest fires.”

The man blinked. He surveyed the snow-covered forest. “I don’t think that’s an issue. The forest isn’t dry right now.”

“There are always dry sticks in a forest.”

The man shook his head. He stuck a hand into the bag but furrowed his brow when his fingers struggled to catch any of the food. Snow fell onto the nuts, but most of it just landed on his hand. Trying to get his fingers to move made his joints seem to scream. Standing still was making his clothes feel like they were clinging too closely to his skin.

The man decided he could eat once he had a fire built. After closing the bag, he went through the process of putting it back in the inner pocket. The pain in his fingers slowed him down and made the process nearly agonizing.

While he put the snack away, he said, “I have enough water to control the fire. How do I build a fire?” As soon as he’d closed his coat, the man put his hands under his arms. He raised his shoulders, forcing his coat’s collar to sit closer to his neck.

“Smoke from fire causes air pollution and can cause permanent damage to your lungs.”

“It…” The man thought he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. He’d started shivering again, so he elected to keep moving toward his destination. He could stop to build a fire and wait for emergency services once he got the information he needed.

“Do you have any child protections on?” He didn’t remember setting any of those.

“No.”

The man chewed the inside of his cheek before saying, “I understand it could damage my lungs. How do I build a fire?”

“Fire can cause injuries as serious as third-degree burns and death.”

“I am alone. I have no intention of hurting myself. How do I build a fire?”

“I am not allowed to provide you with information you could use to hurt yourself, regardless of your stated intention.”

The man’s nose and cheeks stung as snow landed on them. His lips were starting to feel dry, which made him realize he had forgotten to put his scarf back. He untightened his posture to fix that. Once his nose was covered again, he breathed heavily into the scarf, trying to warm his face up.

He rubbed his hands together a few times until some heat spread across his palms. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his gloves. At this point, not wearing them felt like doing nothing but inviting frostbite. He forced his hands into the damp cloth and flexed his fingers. Compared to everything else, the damp feeling was something he could ignore. Without snow falling directly on his skin, his hands did feel warmer.

Putting his freshly gloved hands into his coat pockets, he asked, “When will I arrive at my destination?”

“Estimated time of arrival is 4:43 Eastern.”

Despite the puddles slowing him down and having fallen in the water, he hadn’t lost that much time. The man decided to focus on the fact that he seemed to be losing sensation in his foot that had not been spared from the water.

Already imagining his toes having to be amputated, the man said, “I'm in a forest. It is cold, snowing, and I am wet without a change of dry clothes. What should I do?”

“It is recommended that you contact Emergency Services.” The man nodded as the dog continued, “And then build a fire to dry yourself as soon as possible.”

“And,” the word stumbled out of the man’s mouth as a shiver shot down his spine. “What if I don’t know how to build a fire?”

“Wait for Emergency Services to arrive. It is not advisable to attempt building a fire without the proper experience to control it.”

“You can’t tell me how to build a fire safely?”

“I am not allowed to provide you with information you could use to hurt yourself.”

The silence after that was held off by the crunch of snow and leaves under the man’s boots. As another shiver wracked through his body, he pressed his lips together. His muscles were beginning to ache from shivering.

He kept walking.

At this point,  if he made it to his destination, he might lose a few toes, but that was survivable.

He thought of the heating he’d arrive to, and he could already feel the blast of warmth from when he would open the door. He could already feel his fingers aching as they thawed. The sound of his teeth chattering brought him back to reality.

“Am I still on hold?” he asked. The dog began playing the calming music again, so the man grimaced. “Put the call in the background.” The music cut off.

If he ran, the man thought, he would get to the boys faster, and it would help his body heat itself. Nodding to himself, he took his hands out of his pockets. He pushed himself to jog before he broke out into a proper run. His scarf fell, bunching up around his jaw. The dog kept up with him easily.

The sound of the man’s sleeves rubbing against the body of his coat was muffled by his hat and overshadowed by the beat of his feet hitting the ground. His movement seemed to loosen the stiffness of his frozen jeans, but each step felt like the toes on his wet foot were breaking. He sniffled without the scarf covering his nose. His cheeks were burning, and the falling snow was sneaking through his gloves, prickling against his fingers.

Still, the sooner he arrived, the more intact he would be.

People ran a few miles consecutively all the time.

The man was not one of them.

Eventually, his pace slowed. His breathing was heavy, mocking him in front of his face, and each breath seemed to be stabbing his throat. He could feel his heartbeat in his neck. His boots were for hiking, not jogging, so the toes that weren’t numb felt bruised, and his ankles ached.

Only an occasional snowflake fluttered from the sky now. It had all but stopped snowing. Still, the snow already on the ground seemed to drag him back, giving way too easily like he was trying to walk on sand or an infinite number of minuscule marbles. His running now was slower than walking.

The man used one breath to force out, “How much longer until I arrive?”

“You are expected to arrive in two hours.” The dog spoke with the same unemotional ease it always did.

The man took a few more steps, coming to a complete stop. He was sure there was sweat dripping down his back, but it felt more like the snow had found a way to get through the collar of his jacket. He blinked, trying to catch his breath, licking his chapped lips between gasps.

He decided he could take a short break. He found a place to sit down, and he leaned his back against a tree beside the path. A shiver made him tighten his shoulder blades. As his heart rate slowed, he gazed out at the forest. The dog moved to stand next to him.

“Did the trail get longer?” the man asked regarding the answer to his earlier question.

“You are moving more slowly.”

The man turned his focus to the dog, shifting his eyes and then his entire head. With his lips parted, the man stared at the dog.

“You’re still working.” The man swallowed, and a laugh that could have been mistaken for a cough escaped his chest. “Because you have a heater.”

“You are correct. All outdoor-use models have heating and cooling systems for temperature regulation to ensure proper function.”

The dog was insulated, which meant the outer metal casing matched the surrounding temperature. Snow didn’t melt on it. Some ice crystals had even formed where the dog’s feet and legs had gotten wet earlier.

“An internal heater,” the man said.

He pushed himself to his feet, not worrying about the snow he pressed into his gloves. His fingers were already painfully numb anyway. Taking a few steps down the trail, he scanned the side of the path until he saw a lump in the snow about the size of his palm. Kneeling, he used his hand to brush a few leaves and the snow off the lump, confirming that it was a rock. When he put his hand on it, he was surprised to find his fingers did not curl around it. He used his other hand to hit his fingers until they were wrapped around the rock. Squeezing as hard as he could, he turned to the dog without standing up.

He did not need to give an order. The dog was already approaching him to stay by his side. Once the dog was close enough, the man brought the rock down on it. There was a dinging sound, but all the man achieved was knocking some lingering snow off the dog. The man slumped forward as the dog moved back.

“Be aware of falling objects,” the dog warned the man.

“Come back,” the man croaked out. After the dog returned to stand in front of him, the man said, “Stay.”

“Stationary command received.”

The man straightened his back and raised his arm. He hit the dog again. The third time he did so, a spark flicked toward the ground. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He hit another part of the dog. More sparks. He continued trying to find a weak part of the metal. He angled the rock poorly and hit his fingers against the dog, nearly crushing them with the rock, but it didn’t really hurt. Struggling to see through the mist that was his breathing, he knocked the rock against one of the dog’s shoulder joints, which made the dog tip toward the man. It made no effort to correct its position.

“Be aware of falling objects,” the dog repeated.

The man hit the side of the dog’s body. It created a scratching sound like nails, and a few more sparks landed helplessly in the snow. The man put more weight behind his blows, not considering whether what he was doing might be damaging the heater he was aiming to gain access to.

Another blow to the already weakened joint made the dog crumple to the side. It did not attempt to stand, still under the command to stay. While the man continued hitting the dog, he left scrapes in the metal but no dents. And each consecutive blow had less and less strength in it. Between strikes, he dragged the rock down the dog’s body before he managed to raise his arm again. Eventually, the man paused with his hand only partially raised in the air.

The dog did not move.

The man stared at it, and he lowered his hand holding the rock. The headless dog seemed to stare back at him.

What was he doing? Outdoor models were designed to survive getting hit by a car. Why was he desperate for a heater anyway? Some part of him said he’d die without it, but his body felt too hot. With how warm he was from the exertion of hitting the dog, surely his clothes must have dried. The danger had passed, so now he was just beating the dog for no reason, like he’d lost his mind. He was glad none of the boys had been there to see him like that.

Shaking his head, he stood up and moved to start walking. He limped, dragging his numb foot.

It was so hot... The man fumbled with the buttons and zipper on his coat, finding that his fingers couldn’t grip anything. That was probably because of the gloves. Giving up, he dropped his hands to his sides. If he took his coat off, he’d probably lose it somehow, so it was better to keep it on.

After a turn in the trail, he realized the dog was no longer with him. He stopped and looked back down the path.

The dog was nowhere in sight. The man chuckled.

His eyelids dipped lower. Instead of shouting or returning to the dog to undo the previous command, he mumbled that he was just going to lie down and take a break.

As he lay down, the man considered that he wasn’t yet late, so his friends probably weren’t concerned. He wasn’t going to show up in time, though. The boys would be worried then.

The man imagined walking through the forest with the boys while they searched for him. He imagined standing next to them while they dusted snow off his sleeping form and the dog. When he woke up, he could tell them what happened. They’d laugh. He rested his head in the snow. He wished he could tell them he was fine.

He’d found the warmest part of the forest. In fact, he was sure he’d be more comfortable without his hat on, but his arms felt like they were tied to the forest floor. That was fine. His hat was acting as a decent pillow.

His eyes fully closed. The breath visible in front of his face slowed its dance as the man’s breathing fell into a steadier rhythm. At some point, there was no longer any mist escaping the man’s lips.

He joined the dog and the winter forest in stillness.

A distance away from the man, the dog clicked before a different voice crackled out of its speaker. “Emergency Services. What’s your emergency?”

No one was there to offer a reply.