Sounds floated above him like a bird on water. Sometimes ducking beneath the waves, staying for untold time, then re-emerging in a different spot. Hard to notice, too fleeting to store in his memory for later reference. The sounds could duck, tail up, into the water, and come up again behind a bush, shooting into the sky and flying away forever. What kind of bird was it-what were the words?

But now the waves rushed into his ears; waves of pain on the back of his head. Waves of shivers, he was so cold. He sensed that he was laying on his back on the ground. He thought of the zeroth law of thermodynamics: Thermal equilibrium is transitive. As his whole back is in contact with the cement, he knows the earth will suck the heat out of him until his body and the planet are the same temperature; of course, he would freeze to death first.

Before the cerebral boy could figure out the equation estimating how long he had before hypothermia set in, another wave hit him. Realization: there was someone near him. Touching his shoulder. Friend or foe?

I'm tired. How did my face get wet? Where is my coat? I'm moving; please get me off the ground. It's cold.

Then, a chirp in Kenning's ear. "Up," was the only word he heard.

Kenning opened his eyes to see a field of greyish blue. The sky. There was also something in the sky, but it was blurry. Or rather, it looked blurry, hopefully because Kenning was missing his glasses and not because the injury damaged his vision.

What was it? Something white. He tried to focus on it. This was important, in his haze, he was sure. Meaningful. Hopefully, the words "you'll be fine" written in the clouds. No? It's moving. Up. He had to look up, it was important. A harbinger, it's something white, moving through the sky; he had to know, as he always did. What is it, up in the sky?

A bird?

No.

A plane.