I was halfway up the slope before I hit trouble.
The wind had continued increasing as frigid air flowed down the cliff face from above, and Kyrshaw had moved about two lengths up the ice face ahead of me. What I didn’t realize was that the ice just above me wasn’t as solid as the ice Kyrshaw was traversing. I kept climbing, driving my right knee into the ice and pivoting to sink the pick on the ice tool in my right hand above my head, when my knee slipped. And with it, the crampon spikes on my right foot. Suddenly, my body swung through the air, pivoting on my left foot.
I let out a cry as the ice there gave and flailed with my synth arm slashing the ice with the blued blade, but it was too sharp. Rather than sinking into the ice to provide resistance for me to gain leverage, the blade s
