No one spoke as the grim procession passed.
"They must have hit the rocks," someone whispered after the medics had passed. "The way the avalanche threw them..."
"Don't," Morek cut in sharply. "Show some respect."
But the whispers continued, because that was what humans did when faced with tragedy: we tried to make sense of it, to understand the mechanics of death as if that might somehow make it less terrifying.
"The two who died must have hit their heads," another voice suggested. "At least it was quick."
I pressed my face against the cold rock, trying to block out the conversations. All I could think about was how close we'd come to losing Shovia and Codric during the trail collapse. If Morek hadn't caught them...
"We need to keep going," Lysara's voice carried back to us.
The avalanche had weakened the entire slope, and more slides were possible, but we had no choice but to keep going up.
I tugged at my carabiner, the familiar motion helping to center me. The hemp rope was slightly frayed where the carabiner rubbed against it, but it remained strong and would hold securely regardless. The problem was its limited utility.
There were so many different ways for us to die out here.
"Ready?" Shovia asked. "Let's go." She started walking without waiting for an answer.
Slowly, our line began to move forward.
The path was the same as it had been before, mostly so narrow that it allowed only a single file, which was fine since we were all tethered in a line. However, at places, it widened enough for groups to sit down and take a break while others passed by.
Nothing had actually changed, but fear had a way of distorting perception almost as much as the altitude-induced hallucinations.
"Look," Codric said. "Above us."
I lifted my gaze to the sky, where dragons circled overhead, their large shapes dark against the aurora-lit sky, but they were probably of many different colors.
Were they watching for signs of further avalanche danger?
Their presence should have been reassuring, but all I could think about was how even they hadn't been able to save everyone.
"Magnificent," Morek murmured behind me. "I can't wait to ride on one's back."
I rolled my eyes, but I refrained from reminding him that his chances of becoming a rider were almost nonexistent.
It suddenly occurred to me that the idea of riding a dragon no longer terrified me or at least not as powerfully as before. After all that I had witnessed on this mountain, life seemed so precarious, and death lurked everywhere.
In a way, I had become numb to fear.
"I knew them," someone said behind us. "I knew all five. They were from my village. We came on the pilgrimage together, but I don't know which ones survived and which ones died."
The words hung in the thin air like ice crystals, poignant and sharp. More whispers followed—bits of information about the five people, memories shared in hushed voices that carried in the silence nonetheless.
"They were childhood friends..."
"Their families..."
I tried not to listen, but the words worked their way into my consciousness anyway. These weren't just anonymous victims. They were people with dreams and hopes, just like the rest of us.
"The storm's picking up again," Shovia said. "Can you smell it?"
I didn't, but I believed her.
The wind carried ice crystals that stung, and the auroras seemed to pulse with renewed intensity. The mountain washinting that it wasn't done with us and that our survival wasn't guaranteed just because we'd already witnessed tragedy.
