He remembered The Giver. Memories of joy flooded through him suddenly.
He reached the place where the hill crested and he could feel the ground under his snow-covered feet become level.
It would not be uphill anymore. “We’re almost there, Gabriel,” he whispered, feeling quite certain without knowing why.
“I remember this place, Gabe.” And it was true. But it was not a grasping of a thin and burdensome recollection;
this was different. This was something that he could keep. It was a memory of his own.
He hugged Gabriel and rubbed him briskly, warming him, to keep him alive.
The wind was bitterly cold. The snow swirled, blurring his vision.
But somewhere ahead, through the blinding storm, he knew there was warmth and light.
Using his final strength, and a special knowledge that was deep inside him, Jonas found the sled that was waiting for them at the top of the hill.
Numbly his hands fumbled for the rope. He settled himself on the sled and hugged Gabe close.
The hill was steep but the snow was powdery and soft, and he knew that this time there would be no ice, no fall, no pain.
Inside his freezing body, his heart surged with hope. They started down.
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