The Call to Frozen Heights

Roham stood at the base of Frozen Island's tallest mountain, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. The red puffer jacket his mom had insisted on buying last winter now felt like the smartest purchase ever made. He adjusted the walkie-talkie in his pocket and checked the rope secured to his belt one more time.

"Testing, testing," he spoke into the device. His father's crackling voice came through clearly from base camp below.

"Signal's good, son. Weather looks stable for the next few hours."

Roham grinned and clipped the walkie-talkie back to his jacket. The mountain stretched impossibly high above him, its icy face catching the pale sunlight like thousands of tiny mirrors. He'd been planning this climb for months, studying maps and weather patterns.

His boots crunched against the packed snow as he took his first steps up the slope. The adventure he'd dreamed about was finally beginning.

Static and Shelter

The wind picked up faster than Roham expected. What started as a gentle breeze now howled around the rocky outcrops, sending ice crystals stinging against his cheeks. He pulled his red jacket tighter and checked his walkie-talkie.

"Dad, the weather's getting rough up here," he said into the device.

Static crackled back at him. Then nothing.

"Dad? Can you hear me?"

More static. The signal was breaking up.

Dark clouds rolled in from the north, blotting out the pale sun. Snow began falling in thick, heavy flakes that made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Roham looked up the mountain, then back down the way he'd come. Both directions disappeared into swirling white.

A sharp gust nearly knocked him sideways. He spotted a dark opening in the rocky face to his left—a cave. Without hesitation, he scrambled toward it, his boots slipping on the increasingly slick rocks.

Inside, the howling wind became a distant moan. Roham shook snow from his jacket and tried the walkie-talkie again.

Nothing but static filled the cave.