Leaving behind the ashen remains of the wendigo, I navigate through the thick snowfall. The dark smoke generated by the creature's demise mingles with the biting winds, creating an eerie atmosphere. Despite my exhaustion, and the dried blood on the side of my head, I press on, my steps hurried as I ascend the pass, my destination a cave hidden behind the western ridge adjoining the mountain's lowest plateau.
The biting wind cuts through my clothing as I battle my way forward. The snowstorm gains intensity, breaking branches from trees and causing unstable sluffs of snow to tumble unpredictably from the slopes of Sul Alta. Each step becomes a struggle as the accumulating snow impedes my progress.
Persisting despite the tightness gripping my chest, I continue along the western ridge until
