My worst fears have been confirmed. We began searching for William the Aussie this morning. Everyone was down. We knew that if we found him, we'd more than likely find him dead. Indeed we did. Mosao found him as he was looking around. He ran back to the camp and informed us all of where he was. We all had to go and see the last trace of our brother. There he was in a frozen pond, at the bottom. It was a miracle that Mosao even spotted him.

  "We wouldn't possibly be able to get him out of there," Lawrence muttered to me.

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  "I know," I responded, "We can't even move from this place. We don't have enough supplies."

  "I know," he told me back. His eyes closed and I could swear I saw a frozen tear fall.

  "Another man dead," he muttered, beginning to walk back to camp. I followed him.

  This death was not my fault. I did not know William the Aussie well, but I heard that he was a very good person. I hope he gets some rest. I have lost count of how many of us have died. How long until we're all gone?