By Gary Paulsen
In Hatchet, 13-year-old Brian Robeson discovered to outlive on my own within the Canadian wasteland, armed simply along with his hatchet. He used to be rescued on the finish of the summer season. Brian's Winterbegins the place Hatchet may have ended: Brian isn't rescued, yet needs to construct on his survival talents to stand his deadliest enemy--a northern winter.
From the Hardcover edition.
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Extra info for Brian's Winter
Pop . . . pop. And he had the fireplace going and the pot on with snow and meat set to boil while he discovered what he had heard, or what he hadn’t heard. It was once too hot for bushes to blow up. bankruptcy SEVENTEEN He had fooled himself prior to. He had proposal he heard planes whilst none have been there, had imagined he observed humans, had suggestion weapons have been going off whilst bushes have been exploding—all improper. And so now he considered what it may be. If it wasn’t bushes exploding then what? He may possibly contemplate not anything yet a gun, except one way or the other bushes exploded whilst it obtained hot in addition to whilst it was once chilly. He had ignored camp and spent the entire subsequent day cleansing the defend, bringing in additional wooden, retightening the snowshoes, checking the bowstring and polishing the hatchet and knife. It used to be nonetheless hot so he positioned his drowsing bag out to air and by some means while he had performed these items it was once close to darkish and time to cook dinner back and settle in for the evening. yet he used to be no longer drained, and the entire day, whereas he labored round camp, after which at darkish whilst he made the fireplace and began to cook dinner, all that point he saved listening for the sound back, realizing that it was once hot and that it will probably now not be bushes, yet no longer considering prior that, simply listening, ready. yet he didn't pay attention it back. He lay conscious taking a look at the coals, the nice and cozy glow lighting fixtures his face, and whilst his eyes closed he knew that day after today he might cross and check out to discover where the place he had heard the popping sounds. He proposal it needs to be an exceptional distance—the sounds have been faint—and he may most likely locate a few believable reason behind the sound. yet he could glance. He needed to glance. He woke up prior to sunrise, made a small fireplace to cook dinner stew after which ready his apparatus. He had no longer forgotten the wolves and he observed to his lance and conflict bow and arrows, hung the hatchet and knife on a thong round his shoulder and left camp simply after reliable gentle. Brian knew it'd be a wasted journey and he determined to swing prior the wolf-killed moose. There were 4 wolves however it used to be a wide moose and there may most likely be meat left over—if the wolves have been long past. He needn’t have frightened. The wolves had eaten off the rear finish and up the center and have been long past however the front and back shoulders have been intact and Brian made a psychological observe to swing round and begin wearing meat again to the camp while he accomplished the quest. the nice and cozy climate had softened the snow floor after which it had refrozen throughout the evening, so the snowshoes didn’t sink in in any respect yet rode alongside the pinnacle and Brian stumbled on it was once similar to skating. “If I had skis,” he murmured, “I may fly . . . ” And he questioned how tough it might be to make a couple of skis—whittle them out of wooden. nearly most unlikely, yet his brain stayed on it, considering on how he would narrow a immediately log and cut up it with the hatchet and carve it flat and one way or the other warp up the top, seeing it in his brain, visualizing each one step, and he used to be so stuck up within the thought of the skis that he virtually ignored it. A line. He had come 3 miles and a piece extra, operating alongside the tops of ridges the place he may possibly see farther.