He turned the map over, bending the paper toward the light. Wrinkles created shadows, great craters obstructing the red and black lines. Fraser's hands, on either side, trembled slightly when he studied the blue ink, the frozen lakes one could easily fall through. How beautiful, his home. How terrible.

I absolutely loved this. But oh, what a punch to the gut. Amazing, the choice of words, like "snappish hair". And this desperate Fraser:

"Stay, you can, I'll make room. I've done it before."

just rips your heart right out of your chest. Wow.