The silence presses in, a weight of its own. No sound penetrates the thick layers of snow—not the howl of the wind, not the faintest echo of life.
It’s as if the world above has ceased to exist. I could be inches from the surface or buried under an endless white void. The stillness is maddening, disorienting.
I focus on the shallow rise and fall of my chest, counting breaths to keep the panic at bay. Time becomes meaningless here in the frozen dark. Minutes, hours—how long have I been trapped?
The snow clings to me, stealing the warmth from my body, and my thoughts start to slip. There’s no way to tell if rescue is coming or if the lonely beat of my heart will be the last thing I ever hear.
As the heaviness abates and instead, I float, my life doesn’t flash before my eyes. Rather, I see a highlight reel of the highs and lows. I watch as I grow up and head off to college where for the first time in my life, I thrive. Instead of being a nerd, I’m celebrated for my intellect and curiosity.
I see myself, a promising young undergrad, falling in love with Ben. Putting him on a pedestal and thinking he is my soulmate. The friends and fun I had discovered slipping away as he eclipsed everything else in my life.
Stuck here in the snow on the other side of the world, I’m struck again by just how much he was the one riding my coattails. How all of his successes were mine boosting him up. I see with perfect clarity how he used me and took advantage of the love I offered freely.
“You were the smart one, the whole time. Be smart now,” I stammer out to myself, teeth chattering.
My mind is slow but drifts through what to do in an avalanche from some book I read long ago. I realize, I don’tknow what direction I am facing to get out. I work up what little saliva is in my cold mouth, and I spit. It falls straight down into the snow, and I realize I am face down. I never could have punched up.
With a small laugh, I realize I went ass over tin cups down the mountain. The thought triggers a memory, a song. Wildly inappropriate lyrics start coursing through my mind, telling me to back that ass up. I start nodding my head to the beat and try to wriggle my body, booty end first.
It’s the only plan I’ve got. All I can do is hope that it's crazy enough to work. Within minutes, crippling fatigue weighs me down, and with the lack of progress, I debate giving up. Maybe freezing to death won’t be that bad after all. Just me and my off-key rendition of this song fading into oblivion.
The thought hits me with brutal clarity—I am going to die here.
I am going to freeze to death alone in this storm, buried beneath the weight of my own recklessness in pursuit of my cure. The ultimate ironic death.
A laugh bubbles up, half-hysterical, but I bite it back. As the song plays on repeat in my mind, I dig down deep and tap into my survival instinct. It is me and my will to live against the avalanche. I channel the fear, the hysteria, the fucking irony into my movements, shaking more and more until I’m twerking my way, ass up, out of the damn snowy tomb.
Suddenly, I feel something shift, and an icy blast hits my rear.
“No, shit, the nineties for the win,” I chatter out, half frozen, half hysterical, but wholly grateful.
Delicious icy air flows past my body and floods my lungs, but no matter how much I tell my body that I need just a few more seconds of energy, it will not listen. The wind whispers to just rest, and I nod. Maybe just for a minute; after all, shaking that booty was a lot of work.
“Something, something, back that ass up,” I mumble the lyrics I can remember, the words coming slower and slower when someone grabs said ass and pulls.
Sita must have found me after all. Tears leave an icy trail down my face as I cry in relief. This was a close call. Way too close.
I flop gratefully onto my back, staring up into the sky, barely feeling the snowflakes landing on my face. Despite the cold pulsing through my body, I welcome the icy blast of crisp mountain air into my lungs. I let my eyes drift shut, too exhausted to even blink.
“Thank you,” I force past my chattering teeth. My words are barely recognizable, no more than a breath drifting away on the wind.
Feeling Sita lean over me, I open my eyes expecting to look up into her familiar smile and warm brown eyes.
My heart stops. My brain misfires, refusing to process what I’m seeing.
Not Sita.
Not even human.
An enormous creature covered in shaggy hair caked with snow leans over me. But it’s the eyes that are locked onto mine that has terror colder than the bitter snow sinking into my soul.
The Migoi.
“Fuck,” I breathe out on a curse.
The wind howls. The snow rages. And the creature crouches over me, watching. Waiting.
I should be screaming. Running.Something.But all I can do is stare.
