There I was, hanging from the sheer cliff, covered in ice. I was losing blood fast from my left leg, I needed treatment, and fast. I had to get climbing, but it was up there, just waiting for me.
“It’ll kill me..” I muttered to myself.
You’re probably wondering how all of this began, so I’ll take you back about three days, when my carelessness and ignorance began my slow and painful death.
I shoved my spare socks into my hiking bag and crossed them off my checklist for my three-day trip into the mountains. I took my last bag from the table and pulled my beanie over my wavy brown hair. I swung open my front door and braced for the cold as I headed out towards my car. With my backpack heavy on my shoulders I stomped  around the side of the car, struggling through the snow. I lifted my bag into the car as the boy next door waddled up to me, bundled up in layers. Right as he opened his mouth his father peered over the fence.
“Where ya goin’ Jim?” he blurted out impulsively.
“Out to the mountains for some hiking” I hollered back.
“Ya know there’s a blizzard coming through here, might not be too bright to hike in this weather” He remarked with a smirk.
“Don’t worry, Mike, I checked and that storm won’t hit for another five days. I know my stuff, now go back to that snowman of yours.” I snickered back.
Little did I know this might be the last conversation I’d ever have with Mike, or anybody for that matter. Pretty soon little things like nosy neighbors would be the least of my worries.
I drove and drove, for what felt like hours until I finally arrived at the base of the mountain. The shiny white mountain tops shimmered in the sunlight as I swung my large bag over my shoulder, full of all the things I would need for my long journey. No more, no less, I tried to pack light, taking only the necessities for three days, and only three days. Reaching for my ice pick, I wondered why I’d need it, it was a lot of weight, none of which I could afford to take. Going with my gut I hooked the pick onto my large pack, grabbed my hiking poles, and began my long quest up the mountain.
It was one day in and I was doing well, trudging through the snow for twelve miles so far. Then it started, the tiny white snowflakes began to flutter to the ground. This is usually a happy experience for most people, but for me every snowflake was making this trip more and more dangerous. The snow kept building and building for hours on end, and with every hour the snow got thicker and thicker until it was a solid screen in front of my eyes. With the wind howling and the snow piling up, I decided to begin the journey back. I guess I wasn’t meant to trump this mountain, afterall.
I stumbled down the mountainside faster and faster until I lost control. I felt my feet get ripped out from beneath me and then felt the cold snow slam into my face like a truck. Not knowing how long I’d been out, I slowly struggled to get up and when I finally emerged from the snowbank I was seeing double, and what I saw was horrifying. A large wolf was staring me dead in the eyes, it’s large, blood stained fangs snarling at me without mercy. With that I jumped to my feet, suddenly full of adrenaline and energy, and began to sprint down the mountain. The wall of snow soon turned to hail as I ran, each piece bruising me more than the last. I covered my face in a last ditch effort to shield me from the rock like hail, and suddenly I felt weightless.
I heard the wind screaming in my ears and felt my stomach drop. I knew what was happening and dreadfully uncovered my eyes to reveal the inevitable. I was plummeting to my death and needed to come up with something fast. Then, I remembered the ice pick. Time seemed to slow down as I hopefully reached for my pick, then my instincts kicked in and I buried it into the sheer ice cliff. At this moment I realized a pain in my left leg, looking down I gazed upon what I used to call a leg. The only thing I saw was red, there was blood everywhere, and I winced at the utter pain. How come I didn't notice this before? Then I remembered how much adrenaline was flowing through me seconds before, how much energy I had, and how much I needed it back.
I decided I needed a plan, glancing down I determined that the ground could be anywhere, the thick blizzard was concealing my view from the somewhat safe haven of the ground. It was either up or down and I needed to make a choice fast. I decided up was the only way, so I jabbed the tip of my boot into the ice and shoved the pick into the cliff. Inch by inch I climbed until I saw the edge of the cliff. Then I heard it. The howling. The horrible scream of the wolf above me. I decided, down it is.
After several hours I approached the bottom of the cliff frostbitten and exhausted. I could barely walk, I knew I couldn’t make it off this mountain on foot. With my left leg in pieces I needed some way to get home. I surveyed the area and gathered materials, took inventory and I came up with a couple of frozen sticks and my severed backpack straps. I synched up the sticks and turned them into a makeshift sled. I looked down the hill below, looking for a clear path. I limped onto the sled and barreled down the hill.
I gained speed, faster and faster. My vision began to blacken around the edges. As I began to lose consciousness as I felt a sudden jolt. I quickly awakened and felt myself soar across the forest and slammed my back against a tree. I was crippled and could barely move. I looked hopefully towards the sky, and I saw it. The red and white chopper hovering in the sky. The bright search light swooped down across the forest and blinded me. Next thing I knew I was the inside of a helicopter hovering over a snowy mountainside. I was going home.