He lied down on bare snow, using the parachute as a makeshift blanket. The harsh cold winds showed no sign of ending. He had to wait. But he didn’t know whether he could, any longer.
The fall had been bad, very bad. The impact had frozen him. He was lucky, not to have broken any bones.
As he waited for sleep to engulf him, he heard a thump on the snow, a few feet away. He ignored it, very well aware of the need to keep his calm. He must not get disturbed by these otherwise usual stimuli. Lack of oxygen at high altitudes made people see and hear illusions. But he was not going to let it happen.
The thuds gathered pace and intensity. It’s nothing. My mind is just playing tricks on me; he consoled himself, knowing that sleep was more important at this time of the night.
Suddenly he felt a large weight on his legs. A shiver went down his spine and survival instinct made him open his eyes. He saw its small round eyes, gleaming in the moon light. I am about to die; he managed to think before the beast tore his throat open.
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