Chapter 347

• The wind on the mountain face wasn’t just cold; it was a physical assault. It stripped the heat from our bodies in seconds, turning sweat to ice and breath to ragged clouds of steam.
• We were climbing a goat path that was barely wide enough for two people. To our left, a sheer wall of gray granite. To our right, a drop into a foggy abyss that swallowed the world below.
• "Keep moving," I rasped, my voice lost in the howling gale. "If we stop, we freeze."