Dangers of the Mountain

It was a pretty, snowy morning, and he was enjoying the light after a long decent through the tunnels. It had snowed again, and some of the trails he’d taken before were blocked. Perhaps he would have done better to dig through on the familiar trail.

He was thinking, picking his way through a rather precarious goat path that must only be the favorite trail of particularly ballsy rams trying to impress ewes. But it was the only path he’d found that went the direction he wanted to go, which was toward home.

And then, the ground beneath his paws gave way, a loose rock twisting from its socket in the mountain trail and tumbling down a steep cliffside, with Cairo shortly after. He thought he’d rolled pretty well the first few times he hit the stony wall and ground, but then gravity caught up and a lightning shot of pain seared through his right front leg, ripped a shouted yelp from his jaws and taking the breath along with it.

And still he fell in an uncontrolled, clobbering rate, trying to twist himself, to dig his claws in. Another tumble, another lightning bolt, this time in the back right  leg.

It took an age, and he was dead sure he was going to be dead, and then he hit. His head cracked hard on a rock, and it was lights out, Cairo splayed like a hide doll on the ground, fur buffeted by a rather baleful breeze. It was probably the same rock that fell out from under him that had cracked his head.

Chrysta screeched as she plummeted, landing by the unmoving wolf and pushing at his muzzle with a taloned foot. Her hearing was keen enough to hear that he was still alive, but she could do nothing for the man, bird that she was. The only thing she could do was leave him there, pushing off and winging southward as fast as she could fly, and hoping that she’d find help.

[Permission granted to have Chrystaloria find and lead the rescuer to him]

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think