I checked myself immediately, running my hands over where the wounds had been. All my cuts and bites had closed, leaving only faint, pink scars that were already fading. Except for a slight ache and discomfort, a dull memory of the agony, I was feeling completely fine. Getting out of my self-made snow tomb, I quickly pulled on my clothes, now mostly dry from my body heat, and went to check on Danny's mother.
She was still under the potent effect of the serum, her skin flushed, and the snow that had covered her had completely melted, leaving a small pool of water around her. Though her body temperature had lowered slightly from its peak, it was still far above normal, and like me, she was now stuck in a solid casing of ice. Knowing it would be better to get her proper medical attention as quickly as possible, I carefully, but swiftly, removed the ice encasing her. Her eyes fluttered, but she remained largely unconscious. I gently maneuvered her onto the foldable stretcher, padding it with the rest of our clothes for warmth and comfort.
Not wanting to waste any more time here, risking another natural disaster or predatory encounter, I tied the rope to the stretcher and started to drag it away. It felt like I was a lone husky pulling a heavy sled, heading back in the direction I had come from.
After three hours of relentless travel, pulling Heather across the uneven, snow-covered terrain, I arrived in the area that I was passing by during the blizzard. The landscape was still harsh, but the visibility was much better now, and the winds had died down to a manageable breeze. I guess without all that wind and snow hindering me, I'll reach my helicopter landing area sooner, I mused, a flicker of hope. It will still take me at least one more day to get completely out of these treacherous mountains.
Right then, the snow in my vicinity vibrated, a deep, unsettling tremor that ran through the very ground. I felt my footing slightly slip, my heart leaping into my throat. Is it an avalanche? I thought, my gaze instinctively snapping towards the nearby peaks, searching for the tell-tale rush of cascading snow. To my immense relief, I saw no signs of rolling snow, no thunderous descent of white death.
Sigh~, as long as it's not an avalanche, that could be the worst thing to me, I thought, allowing a faint, weary smile. But it looks like I sighed too soon, as the heavens, or perhaps some unseen cosmic joker, had other plans for me. Because what I saw when I turned back was infinitely, undeniably, much worse than an avalanche.
In front of me, partially obscured by the lingering mist, stood a White Tiger. Not just any white tiger, but the kind with piercing blue eyes and stark black stripes. The only problem was its impossible size. It was about 20 feet tall, from what I could make out through the swirling snow, a towering, mythical beast. I mean, I wouldn't even reach its knees even if I stood on my toes while wearing elevator shoes.
I instinctively pulled out my army knife, the small blade a ridiculous gesture against such a colossal creature, and held it before me. But then the stark, brutal realization struck: the knife was utterly, completely, f**king useless in this situation. My heart sank. I mean, that guy looked so unreal (and awesome), it made me want to believe it was CGI, a special effect conjured from a screen. I wondered if I had made some terrible, unforgivable mistakes in my past life and if this was Karma finally, truly, definitively coming to end me. I looked at the tiger in its impossibly intelligent eyes, then glanced at Danny's unconscious mother behind me, and finally, at the pathetic knife in my hand. Looks like I got no choice, I thought, a grim acceptance settling over me.
The bitter irony of a thought I'd had when my helicopter first failed, when the blizzard raged and fuel ran out, echoed in my mind: "All that's left is an avalanche. What could be worse than that?" The universe, it seemed, had just delivered its terrifying answer to my rhetorical question, proving its twisted sense of humor once more.
And then, with a wry, almost resigned shrug, I said aloud, "F**k My Life." I braced myself, ready to fight, ready to perform a futile, desperate, heroic last stand.
But suddenly, a deep, rumbling voice, rich with an ancient resonance that vibrated through the snow itself, spoke. "Cursing is a bad habit." The words startled me, almost making me jump right out of my skin.
"Who's there?" I demanded, my voice cracking slightly as I spun around, scanning the seemingly empty air around the colossal beast.
"Are you blind, boy?" the voice boomed, imbued with a hint of dry amusement. "Can't you see me despite my size?"
My head slowly, disbelievingly, turned back towards the source of the voice – The Tiger. My jaw dropped. A look of absolute shock plastered itself on my face as I managed to articulate a single, incredulous question. "You can speak?"
"Oh! Did you realize?" the tiger replied, its massive, bloody maw opening and closing with its words, revealing giant, razor-sharp teeth, each one a dagger. "What gave it away? My voice?" The sarcasm was thick in its tone, heavy enough to cut through the mountain air.
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water, my mind reeling, trying desperately to process the impossible. No words came out. His words made me so utterly speechless, so fundamentally shocked, that it left my mind rebooting for a while, completely unable to form any proper, coherent answer.