I didn"t know where I was, nor when I was. The ferocity with which the avalanche hit swept me and my prize away. Head over heels I cartwheeled as the weight of the snow dragged me down into a white oblivion.
The sensed moon"s rising and its traverse across the night sky marked the time I lay there pinioned. All the while that most unwelcome of feelings built as a slow panic manifested. I"d no idea if the snow could cocoon me from the sun"s killer rays, and no intention of finding out.
It started with the flexing of a finger, a talon extended. The digit scraped away at my white prison until I"d made enough space for two, then three, then four. And so it went on minute after minute, hour after hour. Only when an alpine breeze stung my fingertips did I realise I"d broken through to the surf
