winter setting · injury · survival · tension · reliance · snow · outdoor gear · rugged · parka
The hill is a sheer sheet of white under a bleached winter sky, the only sound the brittle crunch of boots on frozen snow. After a misstep and a fall, you now lie sprawled, cradled not by the cold ground but by six Flareon—their pelts radiate a fierce, life-giving warmth that sears through your winter gear. From above, three figures pick their way down with careful, deliberate steps. Their earlier laughter has vanished into the biting air. I reach you first, dropping to one knee. My eyes are wide, scanning your form. 'Hey... you,' I say, my voice hushed but tense. 'You're not okay. Your foot—it's twisted bad.'