Cold Snap

It was the Dead of Winter and he was whiter than snow. In the lonely mountain ranges which spread across the Eastern world two men slumbered within a warm cabin. The equipment stored close by said they were going to ski cross country, and the thick blanket of snow in the mountain ranges said it would be a good skiing trip. The sky was changing its coat slowly as the rays of the sun reached into the frigid sky. Black heavens receded unto a frosty blue and the harsh klaxon of a cheap alarm rudely roused the travelers from their bunks.

"Remind me again why we set the alarm for 7 in the morning when we have all day to travel to the bottom?" Said a groggy skier. The other man without reply escaped his bunk and warmed up some coffee. Soon thereafter he was joined by his stumbling companion and they shared a simple breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, and coffee. Still mum they put on their suits and sticks and glided out of the cabin into the winter morning.

The trail in the mountains sloped upwards forcing the men to rely on their sticks to propel them to the trail's end. They planned to take this trail until they reached a fairly high altitude and then to simply ski down the mountainside. "Man, I wish my life looked this good all the time." Said the now not groggy man. The view was breathtaking; the sun had just ascended over the peak and was illuminating the forests and valleys in the roots of the mountain. The other man paused to survey the splendor, and then proceeded on without comment.

They eventually began to notice their breathing becoming strained in thin air and decided they had climbed far enough. They hydrated themselves and rested for a few minutes before taking what the talkative one thought of as the big plunge. "Yeeehaaaw!" Said the only man in apparent use of his tongue. The other man was smiling. They raced each other down the snowy scene for a time and then slackened their pace to something a little less hellbent. Still silent he took out his compass and pointed to the east of them, alongside the slope instead of down.

The first time that day the other man replied in actions instead of words and followed him. They travel east until the meet with what skiers call the spines of the mountain. The rocky formations caused by some great upheaval of earth blocked their way east for as far north and south as they could see. Their only option was to travel even farther down the slope. "Figures, we'll probably get lost." Piped up Mr. Talkative. Mr. Silent made a mute sigh.

For the first time that day Mr. Talkative guessed right, they did get lost. The dazzling light began to fade and the snow blurred the differences between rock and tree. In the failing sun they at last spotted a shallow cave in the side of the spine. Fortunately they had some trail mix left to eat and enough water to survive for another day. But the night did not pass with much rest for either of them, for the air was continuously pierced by the cry of the wolves and the roar of bears. They both greatly feared they were squatting in the den of some beast and would soon enjoy claws and teeth as their reward.

Before light had fully taken hold they left the cave. The slope before them was barely discernible and they traveled cautiously towards the bottom. They had almost passed a gap in the spine when Mr. Silent spotted it and made towards it without warning. "Hey, wait! What?" Cried out Mr. Talkative, soon followed by a soft "Ooooh." They headed east desperate to reach the town where their all terrain vehicles were parked with supplies. In the night the sky had sent down a short rain which made the trek more slippery and as a result Mr. Talkative was complaining. "Ahhh, gosh. It had to be freezing rain. The snow was perfect only yesterday and..." Mr. Silent didn't hear any other words and turned his head to see Mr. Talkative sliding backwards down the mountain.

His panicked yells only increased when he lost his sticks and all the while Mr. Silent sped after him. Farther and faster he hurled down the slope but not as quickly as Mr. Silent. Soon enough they were side by side, one in control and one out of it, and Mr. Silent grabbed the arm of Mr. Talkative. They began to slow down, bit by bit, as Mr. Silent shed momentum with well placed movements. Yet he saw the cliff side too late. Suddenly Mr. Talkative was hanging off the edge of the cliff and Mr. Silent somehow had managed to stay on the slope while keeping his companion's arm in a firm hold.

"Richard! Oh Lord, oh Lord!" Stammered Mr. Talkative gripped by fear. "Calm down Mark, you're doing nobody a favor by panicking." Replied Richard with the strain obvious in his voice. "I, I've been headstrong Richard. I've stopped being an example of love and light, and I've allowed my pride to blind me. Oh God, forgive me for wasting so many years and backsliding faster than my ride down this mountain!" "Mark, what are you doing?!"

The air was fast, sliding past him with its frigid knives. The side of the spine had been lifted quite high off the mountain floor and the landscape flashed before Mark's eyes just as fast as his life. Soon he began to hear a high and sweet sound as he fell faster and faster. He looked up to see Richard looking down at him, just a small figure now, and he felt like he was flying instead of falling. In the death of winter he was whiter than the snows of his grave.

Dt

Ps.  This story is a little rough around the edges, so I'm sure you will all have comments about how I can improve it.  But I still like it.