Ali Baba had all but given up on trying to see what lay before him. Nothing but whiteness engulfed him like a cocoon. All he could do was feel his way up.
It was like walking in the dark, not knowing whether or not you were nearing your destination or if there was a pitfall waiting right beneath your feet.
Well, for one, he was sure the latter existed.
And so he could only go up from there on, ignoring the persistent concern at the back of his mind of how he would get down afterward.
He could worry about it once he was safely at the top of the mountain with some firm ground beneath him. He needed to continue climbing to survive.
He, however, didn't expect to throw his hand in search of an outcrop only to fall through empty air. He had run out of surface to climb.
With great force, he managed to pull himself over the ledge and squinted his eyes through the barrage of snow and sleet swirling around him, trying to make out the shapes of his surroundings.
