Julius felt like he was slowly being devoured by the terrifying white domain of death.
The cold was unbearable. His limbs were heavy, sluggish, barely responding to his desperate attempts to move. Panic clawed at his mind as he realized how little control he had over his own body.
He had been locked into the avalanche, which had now settled.
Was this how he was going to die? Trapped beneath endless layers of suffocating ice, alone, unseen, forgotten?
No.
Gradually, strength returned to his arms, and he could finally make minimal progress. His fingers, stiff and half-numb, dug into the dense snow, scraping forward inch by inch. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, each exhale forming a weak, trembling cloud before disappearing into the oppressive white.
As he gripped through the snow further and further, he felt as though he was reaching the surface of his frozen prison.
