...They walked ahead and I kept pace, a few steps behind the pair, stumbling blindly in the swirling snow. I was following  the occasional, “piss-faced,” or “grease fryer,” that made it's way back to me. Our guide found us shelter under a rocky outcropping ("I found a house!"), relatively safe from the weather, and said he didn’t wish to lead us on but Agatha would not forgive his failure if we did not see the summit as he had promised us. I wished to return then- How I wish I had!- but Dr. Shin’s repeated insult of “elephantitus of the head” filled me with anger and drove me onward. 

We carried on, ever upward, our guide constantly reiterating that we were within 15 minutes of the top... every half-hour.  Darkness fell and still it snowed. Dr. Shin turned to me and opened his mouth to talk, most certainly an insult, but it did not come for just then a wail cut above the din of the storm and put more fear into me than any drunk in ridiculous cowboy boots holding a broken bottle ever could. I remembered the great beast from the book of Job:

                “I will not keep silent concerning its limbs,

or its mighty strength, or its splendid frame.

                Who can strip off its outer garment?

                Who can penetrate its double coat of mail?

                Who can open the doors of its face?

                There is terror all around its teeth.

                Its back is made of shields in rows,

                                shut up closely as with a seal.

                One is so near to another

                                that no air can come between them.

                They are joined one to another;

                                they clasp each other and cannot be separated.

                Its sneezes flash forth lightning,

                                and its eyes are the eyelids of dawn.

                From its mouth go flaming torches;

                                sparks of fire leap out.

                Out of its nostrils comes smoke,

                                as from a boiling pot and burning rushes.

                Its breath kindles coals,

                                and a flame comes out of its mouth.

                In its neck abides strength,

                                and terror dances before it.

                The folds of its flesh cling together;

                                it is firmly cast and immovable.

                Its heart is as hard as stone,

                                as hard as the lower millstone.

                When it raises itself up the gods are afraid;

                                at the crashing they are beside themselves.”

And what did we do? We ran.

                                                                To be continued…