Page 2 of Daddy of the Mountain

Ahead, the world dissolved into a swirling void of white. I stumbled again, knees buckling, and landed hard on one hand. Pain shot up my wrist, sharp and angry, but I barely noticed. I couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t catch my breath.

"Focus," I choked out, but my voice was barely audible over the storm.

The snow kept falling.

Then, things got a lot worse.

It was subtle at first—a low vibration, like the earth clearing its throat. Then it turned violent, a deep, guttural roar ripping through the forest. I froze, my breath catching mid-gasp as the sound grew louder, closer. The trees quivered and groaned all around me, snow slipping from their branches in thick sheets. For one wild second, I thought it might be an earthquake.

Then I saw it.

A wall of white thundered down the mountain, massive and unrelenting. It devoured everything in its path—trees, rocks, the very trail I’d been following moments ago. My legs moved before my brain caught up, scrambling aside, away from the crushing wave of snow. My boots slipped on the icy ground, panic clawing at my throat.

"Move! God, move!" The words ripped out of me, but the roar drowned them out.

I made it three frantic steps before my foot snagged on something buried beneath the drifts. A jagged rock. Pain shot up my leg, sharp and blinding, and I crumpled forward with a yelp. My hands dug into the snow, fingers clawing for purchase, but it was no use. The avalanche hit like a freight train.

The force slammed me sideways, stealing the air from my lungs. Snow poured over me, around me, a freezing, suffocating weight. My body tumbled like a rag doll, flipping and twisting until I didn’t know which way was up. My ankle screamed in protest as I collided with something hard—a tree, maybe—but there was no time to process the pain. The cold was everywhere, pressing in, crushing, relentless.

"Help!" I tried to scream, but snow filled my mouth, choking me. My arms flailed uselessly, searching for anything solid to grab onto, but everything was soft and shifting and endless. White consumed me—blinding, smothering, numbing.

The world slowed. The roar dulled to a distant hum. My chest burned, begging for air that wouldn’t come. Pressure built behind my eyes, and then… nothing.

*

I woke gasping, but no air came. My lashes stuck together, frozen stiff. I could barely blink. Snow packed tight against my body, pinning me in place. My chest heaved, trying to expand against the crushing weight. Panic surged, hot and electric, making my heart jackhammer in my ears.

"Stay calm," I whispered, though the words were just a thread of thought. My lips wouldn’t move. My tongue felt swollen, useless. I couldn’t tell if I was speaking or dreaming.

My right foot throbbed, sharp and insistent. I tried to shift it, just a little, but the motion sent another jolt of pain screaming up my leg. Tears stung my eyes, but they felt wrong—too cold, freezing before they could fall. My head swam, the edges of my vision blurring.

This is it, I thought. This is how it ends. Buried alive in some godforsaken snowbank within two hours of arriving for a vacation that was meant to fix my brain.

Something shifted above me.

A shadow fell across my face, dimming the faint light filtering through the snow. My heart lurched, hope flaring weak and desperate. Was it real? Or just my oxygen-starved brain conjuring miracles?

A bear?

The shadow moved again, clearer now. Closer. A hand—rough, dirt-caked, strong—broke through the barrier of snow above me. I blinked, trying to focus, but my eyelashes were clumped with frost. The hand dug purposefully, pulling chunks of snow away with a quiet efficiency that felt almost surreal.

"Hold on," a voice grunted, low and gravelly, barely audible over the blood pounding in my ears.

Wait, bears don’t talk.

The man’s face came into view next—bearded, rugged, harsh lines softened only by the intensity in his eyes. They locked onto mine, sharp and unwavering. For a moment, I forgot the cold, the pain, everything. He looked like he belonged here, like he’d stepped straight out of the mountain itself. Real or imagined, he was my only chance.

"Please," I croaked, though I wasn’t sure if the word made it past my lips.

He didn’t respond, didn’t hesitate. His hands started to work, digging me free with a strength and determination that left no room for doubt. Snow gave way under his grip, and suddenly, my chest could expand. I sucked in a lungful of air so sharp and icy it hurt, but it was the sweetest pain I’d ever felt.

"Stay still," he ordered, his tone rough but steady. Not unkind. Just firm.

I wanted to ask him who he was, how he’d found me, but the effort was too much. My eyelids drooped, heavy and uncooperative. I couldn’t stop shivering now, trembling so violently it felt like my bones might rattle apart.

"Don’t pass out." His voice cut through the haze. "You hear me? Stay awake."

Easier said than done. The darkness tugged at me, promising warmth, oblivion. But his hands were there, grounding me, pulling me back. Strong hands. Sure hands. Hands that promised safety, even here, buried in chaos.

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