15

~Ali~

Morning brakes into the cave in cold, piercing beams of sunlight, the low angle of the white sun throwing light at us like arrows. A cool current of air wafts in from outside, brushing a dusting of snow into the cave with it. The breath of air slaps at my cheeks causing me to fall further into Ethan's chest for comforting body heat, staving off reality for as long as I can. Whimpering as another blast of subzero air pinches my face, ashes from the dead fire scatter like black snow. The cold embers tickle at my nose and I rub the sensation away, waking instantly at the intrusive rousing.

Ethan stirs into a half lucid state as I sit upright, throwing his head to the side and grumbling something incoherent, the icy breath of the mountainside undetectable by him.

From my heightened position and Ethan unmoving in sleep, I allow myself a stolen moment to trickle my gaze over his face without the guilt of being caught. Excitement fizzes through my blood and I almost become blinded by enamour. I calm myself down, slowing my heart rate as effectively as I can before I begin.

I start with his jaw - an angular outline perfectly framing his face, darkened with a peppering of stubble, the cropped hairs glittering dimly in the slanted sunlight. The heart shaped arch of his lips are gently parted in sleep, the squared fronts of his teeth just visible beyond. His winged cheekbones are peachy with sleep, a small crease pressed into his temple from the hard floor. I imagine his eyes opening, eyelashes curling back and fluttering as he wakes, his gaze settling like feathers over me.

As if reading my thoughts, Ethan stirs and I quickly avert my gaze, raising my arms in a faux stretch. He smiles when he sees me; a sleepy, toothy grin which morphs into a wide yawn. The falling light pierces his eyes, his irises like prisms scattering a rainbow until I can't pick out a singular colour. His hand rests on my knee, gently squeezing and I look down to his touch to distract myself from his eyes. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear nervously, a small smile lifting my lips.

Jack's shoes scuff intrusively over the cold floor and I rear back suddenly at the sound. "Get ready," he grunts coolly and I shuffle away in response to his sudden bitterness. Jack stalks away and Jaz grumbles, following him outside.

I reluctantly disentangle myself from Ethan's warm embrace and search for my jumper and outer coats. My boots were a little further away than expected but I tiptoe over to them and slide my feet in, pulling the laces tight like a corset. I push my beanie over my head, eager to hide my unkempt hair and slip my fingers into my gloves, stuffing them deep into my pockets, ready to go. Ethan drops a granola bar and a banana into my hands and jogs to the front of the cave to give Jack and Jaz the same.

I peel back the wrapping on my bar and take a chunk out the top as Jaz wanders back over to me. The two angels disappear out of the cave, their forms lost the the glare. As Jaz approaches I nod in the direction they left towards quizzically.

"They're just taking care of business, if you know what I mean." I quirk an eyebrow and say no more. "Come on, we'll meet them outside."

As we near the cave entrance I shield my eyes from the brightness of the outside. The glare stings my eyes and it takes me a couple of moments to blink away the opaque haze in my vision. When it does clear, the downward curve of the mountain and endless sky falling away either side of us startles me and I take a moment to adjust to the view.  We are not yet quite past the tree line but the sparse, scraggly trees that persist stand like x-rays of their spring selves. The morning is illuminated with that cold, pale light that only a winter's sun can provide making the fresh snowfall glitter like a carpet of crushed diamonds.

Ethan and Jack reappear from the side of the cave, their boots flattening the fresh powder.

"Let's get going," Ethan says to everyone but we are already moving away from the cave, heading higher up the mountain with every step.

I jog a few steps to walk side by side with Ethan, matching his pace. "Why can't we fly? Surely it would save a lot of time."

"Yes, it would save time but it could also cost us. In a place as sensitive and changeable as this it will be easy to miss subtle clues that may be already half hidden by snow," he answers. As he says this my foot sinks into a particularly deep patch of feathery snow and I tug helplessly to free it. As I squirm my other boot slowly disappears beside it. Ethan chuckles and drags me out of the hole I have made.

"I guess that makes sense," I huff, already tired from the few hundred meters we have travelled. I wonder how far we are from the summit and immediately regret looking up to its distant peak. My head spins at the sight.

The higher we climb, the stronger the wind howls, piling up snow in tall drifts around us. I hunch my shoulders against the shards of flying crystals, wincing at the gnawing cold on my exposed face. Ethan senses my troubles and jumps ahead of me, walking exactly one face in front of me to act as a windbreaker. The effects are instantaneous but guilt leaches around my body as I watch him take the full force of the splintering gale. His jumper lashes violently around his torso, pebbles of cold lumping over his normally unaffected skin. He stumbles over a slippery rock of ice and I reach out to steady him. His hand clasps around my wrist and he hauls me along, pulling me closer into his side. I tug my beanie lower, armouring myself from the bee-sting attack of ice crystals.

I cannot continue to watch Ethan brave through the onslaught and I go to take a step out of his shadow, ready to face the unhindered winds beside him. Probably reading my mind he holds me firm behind him, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

It must have be a couple of hours later when the pulsing heart of the blizzard wanes. Like watching a shaken snow globe settle, the cottony snow begins to drift downwards, the winds easing to  steady blow. We enter an eerie tranquility, the capped summit looming ever closer.

By late afternoon we have zigzagged our way up the north side of the mountain, trawling for any oddities and clues. At this point I am walking several paces ahead of everyone, my thighs burning as I trudge onwards, Ethan nudging me every once in a while when I get stuck. The air is noticeably thinner at this altitude, wheezing through my lungs, the oxygen not adhering to my blood. I breath deep and slow, trudging onwards. A lightheadedness takes over like helium leaking in through my ears expanding my head, the rest of my body a small weight tethering me to the ground. But with the sky a backdrop in every direction, it feels like I am already floating away. I look to the floor to steady myself, trying to deflate my gaseous mind and that is when I see the scarring.

Furrowing my brow, I blink heavily to inspect what I suspect may be a hallucination imprinted into the snow. I rub my eyes but the prints remain visible, the paw markings - each one just smaller than the size of my hand - growing faint as the cups fill with snow. I holler down the mountain, waving my arms frantically above my head.

Ethan is first by my side, dropping into the snow and scrutinising the trail, ghosting his fingers over the faint and quickly fading outline. His eyes seem to follow an invisible path, snaking up the mountain and squinting as far as he can see. After a quick moment, he points upwards and slightly off to the right. We scramble in his pointed direction chasing after the quickly vanishing paw prints.

Eventually, as we desperately quicken our pace, the tracks smooth out into the mountain side and become nothing more than flat, indistinguishable snow. We stop, short of breath and even shorter on ideas of where to go from here.

"Damn it," Jack growls venomously. He kicks a small crater into the soft snow and it flies into the air, fluttering back down around us. The two boys share their frustration ounce for ounce and execute their disappointment in an impassioned conversation. Meanwhile, without much input into our next movements, I gently let my eyes wander and my legs follow, not really exploring the mountainside as such but just roaming for a while to take my mind off of everything.

After a brief moment I steal a glance over my shoulder and am surprised to see how far I have ambled away in my distraction. With my head turned I stumble over my footing and slip over a hardened snowcap, falling onto my knees. I stand and dust myself off, hoping nobody was witness to my clumsiness and I keep walking, one lazy foot in front of the other.

I reach a flattened expanse of snow and pause, looking out over the infinite horizon and the cloud-ringed summits beyond. Everything is peaceful and just until that horridly familiar sensation itches the back of my neck again.

Although realistically I know it is probably the weight of Ethan's watchful eye, I cannot help but liken this feeling to the same off-putting recollection in Barmouth. A feeling of dread resurfaces, much the same as it did previously.

To sedate my gut-clenching worry I search for Ethan's eyes, hoping they are firmly settled on me. He is much further than I expected them to be but even from this distance I am able to make out the back of his head as he talks to the others.

My heart beats a little faster in my chest but I tame my reaction, cursing my overreaction. I turn in a slow arch, meticulously scanning the unbroken snow around me. I search sideways, to the other side and downslope. Then I stop in a cold sweat. I can sense it. With a primal clarity, I just know. He is behind me. I spin around before I have time to talk myself out of it and send my gaze running up to the summit. And there, I see him. Whoever he is, a dark figurine just a speck amongst the whiteness. I turn to the others to see if they have noticed him too but when I turn back the figure has vanished, along with the sensation of being watched.

I pull deep breaths of thin oxygen into my lungs, trying to calm myself. I blink up through the hazy white snow, training my eyes on the summit. But it seems like no one was ever there.

Something shines in the corner of my eye, a silver flint on the yellow afternoon light. I squint skeptically, hesitantly walking towards it, peering down at what appears to be a food tin. I pick up the frostbitten metal and brush away the ice crystals exploding over the surface. A tuna can.

Just a little further up from the tin are several shallow prints as if she stumbled particularly deep in the snow here.

Elated, I raise the tuna can above my head and let the lustrous metal catch the light like a beacon as I open my mouth to call out. But my words catch in my throat, trapped behind the lump that forms when I hear a distinctive grinding sound.

Hesitantly, my arm slackens and my gaze drops to the floor. The sound becomes louder, almost deafening around me on the muted mountaintop. I wince, all my muscles tensing as I try to work out what is happening. Then there is silence. A silence somehow louder than the all-consuming sound of cracking ice.

A crack no thicker than a width of hair appears beside my feet, delicately splintering around my shoes. The entire crack opens up in a reverberating snap, echoing off the neighbouring summits and ringing in my ears. Before I have time to react, the floor wilts beneath me and I plunge.