She resolves to travel around the lake, along the southern shore. Perhaps there is a river she can follow, the better to find a village. If nothing else, she can gather berries along the shore while she waits for her meat to dry. As she starts her journey around the lake, it is late November, only 8 weeks before midwinter (the 5th day). The heathland continues for a few miles, and she sees that the yellowcoat mushrooms and the lingonberries are beginning to wither. A few still stand, but most are gone for the winter. Grouse call from the distance as she walks.
After a day of travel, the shoreline she has followed south has finally started to bend. This must be an enormous lake. She sets up camp in a spruce mire, lighting an old log as she eats mushrooms and berries for her supper. She prays to the spirits as she curls up to sleep, hoping to find a river tomorrow.
The next day as she travels along the shoreline, she comes across fresh reindeer tracks. Hoping for some hide to make a proper shirt and leggings, she follows them away from the lake and east into the heathland.
Following the tracks, the reindeer circles first east, then south, then west back towards the frozen lake. When she finally catches up to it, it is wounded and out on the ice. As she watches from the shore, it steps on a patch of thin ice, falling into the water. After a few minutes its struggles get weaker, and it drowns trying to climb back onto land, only a few feet away from her. She drops most of her gear and lights a nearby log on fire, so that she can warm herself quickly if she falls in the lake. Then she carefully, carefully crawls out on the thin ice, grabbing the leg of the doe and pulling it back onto land safely. She skins the deer and butchers it, sacrificing the choicest cut to the spirits in thanks for offering this animal so graciously to her.