The biting cold is as unbearable as the pain. She tries to peek; tries to lift the snow-encrusted cuff of stiff denim; white searing pain flashes; bile in her throat; she chokes.
The sticky blood on her forehead is no longer warm. She can feel it freezing. It prickles like tiny needles. The wind steals her breath with each gust, whipping her with icy rain. She stares through the swirling white canvas. Beyond it she can barely make out the moon.
She would shield her face but her arms don’t respond. It’s only the pain, the wind, the cold.
This was a bad idea, she tells herself again, possibly the stupidest idea she’s ever had.
She realizes she had blacked out when her cell vibrates on her hip. Surely she can’t get reception here? Then she remembers. She set the alarm herself, as a reminder… seems silly now.
It pulses every 30 seconds, a reminder to stay awake. Wind is so cold; leg screams in pain; stupid.
A shadow falls over her.
Yes, she realizes, this was the stupidest idea she’s ever had.