Wind howled, sharp as ice, tearing at his sleeves as he wrestled the thin nylon into submission. Below, the world fell away into a sea of cloud, peaks like islands piercing the white. His fingers, stiff and clumsy, fumbled with frozen pegs, driving them into the rocky, unforgiving earth. Each hammer strike echoed in the vast silence. The thin air burned his lungs, but the effort anchored him. Finally, the small dome stood—a fragile, defiant bubble of shelter against the immense, indifferent sky. Inside, zipped against the gathering dusk, he breathed, alone yet profoundly connected to the raw, ancient bones of the mountain.
