Helloooo Fanfic! So sorry I haven't updated in so long, but I have recently come out of MAJOR writer's block and stories are exploding into my keyboard! Hope you guys love this story as much as I do!
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The frozen slope. Skis wedged into a deep ditch; snow gathers around my feet. Unmoving. Barely breathing, I wait to die. My equally paralyzed comrade is within spitting distance. I am unable to call his name, for it is all I can do to keep a steady cloud of steam flowing out my nose and mouth. My lips are cracked and bright red, blood drying in the small cuts that frame my mouth. Miniscule ice crystals form on the tips of my eyelashes. It hurts to blink. I stare blankly upwards through evergreen pillars, praying for the help that I know will probably never come. After all, we are crashed into a trench off the trail where no one would hear our cries.
I close my eyes. Death could be easy. I want to give up, my body begs me to stop; to rest in the white swirl that covers me, for it pulls me under with every second I lay here. Small amounts of snow melt beneath me from what little body heat I have left. I seem to sink yet even further under the deathly white blanket that chokes the ground. More and more continues to cover me. Only after a short period of time, I find myself in a warm pocket of snow, shielded from the stinging wind that bit into my cuts before.
I listen to its eerie whistle, sharing its song of sorrow. My mind and body are numb. I wonder how Jasper is holding up. Once I remember my dear friend, I know that I must survive. I desperately try to free myself from all the miserable slush that covers and surrounds me. I struggle, fighting against all that pushes me to give up, to sleep, to do anything but move. I hear my limbs pop and after some testing my body through a series of twitches and jolts, I seem to be able to move again. It smarts like no other pain I have experienced before.
I am immediately drained of energy from all of my exertion, though I can't sleep. It would surely kill me, being in my weakened state. I push the horrible feeling away, knowing I must try to save my friend. Is he hurt? Horrible images of what I could find overwhelm my brain. I can't stand the thought of losing my best friend. As if to encourage my efforts, my mind flashes back to kindergarten when we made bets who would lose their first tooth, him learning to ride a bike before me but encouraging me every step of the way, and when we went to the junior high dance together because neither of us found dates. I chuckled in spite of the dire situation.
With these precious memories in mind, I force myself upward, meanwhile noticing my skis are still attached to my plastic ski boots. I attempt to pry them off with my stiff, frozen fingers, but it is to no avail. Then, a sharp pain cuts into my flesh. I let out a moan and slump back into an awkward lying position. I don't notice I am lying on my injured leg until the torture comes. That hurts beyond whatever I could have imagined. I shriek as even more unbearable pain sears into my wounds. I hear Jasper's voice. It sounds worried and frantic. No! My thoughts scream, but I can't remember how to talk. Before I can decipher what he is saying, my world fades to black.
I wake with a start. My scream pierces the thin air of night. The snow seems to have stopped falling. My surroundings come into a moonlit view and I realize I'm being carried. Fear gags me as I look up to see an unfamiliar face. It is of a man with extremely tan skin, yielding various paint markings on his arms and face, and carrying a small sling of feather tipped arrows across his back. I attempt to squirm out of his grasp, but my injuries threaten to knock me out again from all of the torture they cause. I notice some form of a moccasin has replaced my uncomfortable ski boots. I recognize my saviors; a native Indian tribe has saved me! My thoughts immediately return to Jasper.
Where could he be? My eyes scan the landscape, we seem to have been traveling for quite some time now, and I don't see my friend, but I certainly hear him. His soft and husky voice travels from behind my savior. It sounds as if he is possibly conversing with the Indians. I couldn't help but laugh at his random ways. This was so like him to be dying one minute and incredibly friendly the next. I attempt to break free of the strong arms of the man who carried me but he simply grunted and continued to trudge in his set direction.
This worries me. What if we are being carried to our deaths??? My annoyed squirms turn into swift kicks and punches being aimed at the painted tribal face. He seems to let out a soft squeak of intimidation, but just roughly swings me over his shoulder and continues on into the frozen forest area. I scream once more as I hear an audible crunch near my calf. I hear Jasperer's voice again, and this time I actually know what he's saying. His words come strangled with fear and pain.
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