On and on we walk in file through the bitter cold of the night.
Desperately trying to force some of the thin air into our lungs as the loose scree slips under our feet.

I watch the feet of the person in front of me. Copy how they walk.
It’s easy. They put their left foot forward, so do I. They put their right foot forward, so do I.
They stumble, so do I. Wake up brain.

Higher and higher, slower and slower, until, after an eternity (or was it just a few minutes?) the cold moon sets behind the rock face looming ahead of us.

Scrambling now; over boulders and ice.
“Five minutes to the point”, someone says. I don’t believe them.