This is The Writer's Voice, new fiction from The New Yorker.

I'm Deborah Treasman, fiction editor at The New Yorker.

On this episode of The Writer's Voice, we'll hear Callan Wink read his story,

A Refugee Crisis from the August 20th, 2018 issue of the magazine.

Wink's debut story collection, Dog Run Moon, was published in 2016 and was shortlisted for the

Dylan Thomas Prize. He works as a fly fishing guide in Montana. Now here's Callan Wink.

A Refugee Crisis. In the afternoon, I cross-country ski up a logging road not far out of town.

We haven't had any new snow for a week, and the trail is a hardened, icy crust,

spackled frequently with brown streaks of runny frozen dog shit.

A local dog sledding operation frequents this trail.

Tourists staying at the Hot Springs Resort down the valley,

get decked out in mucklucks and parkas,

and tool around under the watchful eye of the head musher.

I don't know this man personally,

but I've heard that he competed in the Iditarod several times and finished quite well. I can only imagine the cognitive dissonance that results from running

dogs under the midnight sun and the frozen Yukon and then returning here to haul overweight Texans

up and down logging roads at half-hour intervals.

I wonder if the dogs themselves have any thoughts on the nature of their cargo.

I see them occasionally, lunging in their harnesses, tongues lolling.

Once I came around the corner and there'd been some kind of wreck,

sled turned over, the bearded musher helping his client to her feet, Once I came around the corner and there'd been some kind of wreck.

Sled turned over, the bearded musher helping his client to her feet,

...