He was on the other side, half-buried in the snow.

The lost ski lay high above him, on the rocks, at the very edge of the crevasse.

He looked back. The crevasse went down and down. Snow, then ice, then dark rock, then nothing he could see at all.

Wind felt very small and very sheepish.

He dug himself out. Then, very, very carefully, he went back up to the edge to get his ski. He almost slipped, and he almost dropped it.

But he didn’t.

He moved away from the crevasse and the rocks on all fours.