Communication Continuation: Day 5

Where to next? (5,268 / 1,000,000)

The snowy ridge was mostly silent, broken only by the crunching of our footsteps in the powder, and the whipping of the frigid wind across the cliff face. I, however, could hear every thunderous heartbeat pounding through my veins, and every wheezing breath in my chest as I struggled to keep climbing. The icy sting accompanying each inhalation prevented me from taking deep, satisfying breaths.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” my companion’s voice broke through the howling of the wind from above me on the cliff’s face. She could never allow silence to hang around her for too long. I glanced up in her direction as she turned back and pushed her fur-lined hood back, allowing her halo of curls to spring out to their full volume. She pushed her tinted goggles up to rest them on her forehead, and smiled winningly down at me. “Besides, this mountain is just for setting, we’re still here to study dialogue”.

“Wait, no, there’s got to be a better way, I’m not built for this!” I pleaded, only just realizing that I had sunk to my knees and was almost shoulder deep in a bank of snow. My companion strolled down the cliff face in my direction, seemingly not hindered by the steep grade nor by the thick blanket of snow she waded through. She made her way down to me, and wasted no time before grabbing the front of my parka and hoisting me to my feet.

She began to roughly, unnecessarily so I might add, smack my parka all over, removing any clinging bits of snow as she spoke. “I think dialogue is really important, it reveals the personality of the characters!”

That we could agree on, I thought to myself, noting the boisterous confidence with which my companion made this declaration.

“Not only that,” she continued, before suddenly pushing on my shoulder, spinning me to face a different direction. “Dialogue can help drive the narrative.” She stood just behind me, pointing over my shoulder. “If we don’t get to that cave…” gesturing towards a distant dark patch on the uniform white cliff face that I had not noticed until now. “... before that storm catches us, we’re toast,” She spun me a second time to face down in the direction we had climbed from. This time she pointed at a roiling black and grey wall of cloud and sleet that was taking up nearly half of the sky behind us. She took a step back and smacked her mitted hands together to remove any lingering snow, before returning her goggles and hood to their places. “Let’s go,” she said, the tone of unconcerned assuredness gone from her voice, replaced by one of stony determination. Without hesitation, she set off in the direction of the dark patch.

“Wait, where were we even going before… you know what, never mind,” I didn’t have the energy to think or speak, only to trudge and breathe. I followed in my companion’s wake, resigned to learn dialogue, or die trying.

What felt like hours passed of step after step across the still landscape. At one point I began to count my footsteps, but the number began reaching heights that just depressed me further. I looked up in the direction of the dark patch, and saw that it had barely grown in size. From our original vantage point it had looked about the size of my pinky nail. From our current position it still appeared no larger than my thumbnail. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see the advancing tide of the storm was now nearly above our heads, casting an ominous shadow on the cliffside below us. The wind was getting noticeably more intense, causing us to sway and stumble as we climbed.

My foot attempted to gain purchase on a slab of compacted snow, it slipped out from under me and I collapsed face-down into the snow. I immediately heard a series of quick crunches coming towards me, before feeling a hand grip the back of my parka where my hood met the jacket.

“This is not the end,” my companion grunted through gritted teeth. I began to move, still face-down in the snow, as I was dragged by the scruff of my neck. “We haven’t even had that much dialogue yet,” she gasped, obviously strained by supporting my entire weight.

I found my feet and began walking again just as the churning mass above overtook us. “Run!” my companion exclaimed, taking off towards the cave, now only a short distance from us. That’s weird, I could have sworn that thing was still lightyears away a few moments ago. Taking the time to process that thought cost me, and the piercing wind began to carry flurries of snow and ice in sideways torrents around me. I ran.

By the time I reached the cave mouth, the storm was in full murder-mode. It took all of my strength to keep from being blown off the face of the cliff. But step by careful step, I made it. Catching my breath just inside the cave mouth, I felt a misplaced warmth coming from deeper in the cave. After resting a few moments, I continued deeper into the cave, making my way around a bend, hand on the cave wall for guidance. When I turned the corner and saw what awaited me, I froze.

“Hungry?” My companion asked, cheeky grin returned to her face. There was a merry fire crackling on the dirt floor in front of where she sat. Over the flames rested an iron pot, simmering inside which was a chunky stew, bubbling enticingly as she slowly stirred it.

“How did you-” I started, bewildered.

“I’m awesome,” She interjected, and ladled me a bowl. “Plus, there’s no better dialogue than campfire meal dialogue.”

I began shedding my warmest layers, only too eager to get my toes next to that fire. After settling in, and tucking into a bowl or two of stew, I leaned back against the cave wall, contented. “You know you’re right,” I eventually breached the silence. “It’s the small moments like these where the characters bond, especially after undergoing a hardship together.”

My companion grinned and nodded from across the fire. “It’s moments like these where the one character thanks the other character for saving their ass, and the other character says ‘No problem, the strong help the weak!’,” she lifted both arms in a flex, not one to miss a chance to boast.

I laughed softly, my limbs feeling as if they were made of cement blocks instead of muscle and bone. “You’re right, thanks for saving my ass,” I admitted. The fire warmed me from the outside, the hot meal warmed me from the inside, and my eyes began to droop asynchronously. “I’m not weak though,” I murmured, in a voice almost too faint to hear. “Just tired,” barely escaped my lips before my chin dropped to my chest, and everything winked to black.