Tessa dismounted the chairlift on the crest of Kapall, next to the barrier nets she’d slipped through yesterday. The ski route was open today, and the nets rolled back. On her way up, she’d thought about Professor Bahne. His email address was listed on the Institute of Zoology website. It was perfect. After she found a barbegazi, she’d write to him, then he could mention her in one of his books, and everyone would believe her.
Dark clouds swelled over the Arlberg pass, and snow fell in big fluffy lumps. The cold lift had frozen her bum. Tessa shivered. To get warm, she started out with short, quick turns—Coach would’ve been pleased. She sped past the deserted training area in tuck position, taking advantage of the empty piste, and stopped by the edge of the traverse path that led back to the chairlift. The place Opa had shown her, where he’d been rescued, was below the Törli couloir, near the mountain stream. At least, that’s how she remembered it.
Half-erased tracks snaked their way down the white surface, disappearing into the clouds above Schöngraben. The off-piste skiers from this morning were gone—probably finishing their days with après-ski drinks and music, in mountain huts. That was both good—the barbegazi wouldn’t need to hide—and bad: no one would be near to help if anything happened to her. No one even knew where she was, and, on its own, her avalanche transceiver was pointless.
Tessa hesitated. She searched the contacts on her phone for someone to tell where she was headed. Lisa: no, Felix: no, Coach: definitely no, Dad—he lived thousands of kilometres away—no, no, no. She wasn’t allowed to ski off-piste alone. Mum would be livid, if she ever found out. Felix was a better option than the other contacts, and his dad, Uncle Harry, was a rescue patrol volunteer.
She tapped with her frozen fingers: I ski Schöngraben now:-).
After pressing send, she donned her gloves, and left the prepared slopes. The ski route began easy and flat, following the forest, above the treeline. Her phone beeped, but she didn’t stop. She only paused to catch her breath, where the landscape changed and the slope steepened.
Every season, the first time she stood on the edge of this near-vertical drop, it unnerved her. Only the knowledge that she’d survived the descent in earlier years assured her she could do it again. Normally, the bottom of Schöngraben was visible, but today it was snowing so much the view was greyed-out.
Turning back was still possible. She only needed to backtrack up to the trail through the forest. A route she’d often taken last year with Lisa.
After a long look at the whirling snow above the shrouded gorge, she made up her mind. The barbegazi would still be there tomorrow. She turned and shuffled sideways, up towards the trail. The soft snow made it hard work, and she soon became warm and sweaty inside her ski jacket.
A piercing whistle resonated between the mountainsides.
Tessa stopped dead. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The strange whistle sounded again, from high up on the opposite ridge. A similar peculiar whistle answered, from deep below in Schöngraben. The penetrating whistles didn’t sound like rescue whistles, or referee whistles, or the shrill tone from blowing hard in the top part of the wooden recorders in the music room, or anything else she’d ever heard.
In an instant, she changed her decision and skied back down the slope. After five turns, she’d passed the spot where she’d begun backtracking, and, on the steep drop, there was no turning back. The barbegazi would save her if she was caught in an avalanche, wouldn’t they?
They didn’t whistle again. Silence cushioned her, like cotton wool. The only sounds were the clanks of her skis, whenever they grazed each other, and her wheezing breaths. The ground flattened out. Her turns became effortless. She floated across the white blanket, almost without touching it, until something blocked her skis. They stopped abruptly and Tessa flew in a low arc, landing face down in soft, wet snow.
Both skis remained attached—the bindings were tightened for race practice. She got up and brushed the snow away. Huge, boulder-sized snow heaps surrounded her. The remains of yesterday’s avalanche. It had come down through the narrow Törli couloir, the other ski route in Schöngraben. The only route Opa had forbidden her to ski. The route where an avalanche had once buried him.
Somewhere nearby, he’d met the barbegazi.
Tessa edged forward, taking care to avoid the snow-covered rocks, while she searched for something resembling a barbegazi cave entrance. Snow stuck to her goggles, blocking her vision, although she kept wiping it away. She couldn’t see the end of Schöngraben, where two massive man-made earth mounds protected the village from avalanches. The place where she should cross the mountain stream must be close by. Was she too far to the right? Or had she crossed already? This was so stupid. What did she think she was doing, following the sound of whistles? They could’ve been anything. Anywhere. Echoes in the mountains often made sound appear to be coming from a completely different direction. Perhaps it had been the whistle from a train down in the valley. How silly to think she’d heard a barbegazi!
She’d lost her speed, and she had to push herself through the deep snow. Her sweaty thermal underwear turned cold, making her shudder. The falling fluff swallowed the sound of her hiccupping sobs. Tears gathered inside her goggles. She could see even less while crying.
Suddenly, the ground below her caved in, revealing a hidden hollow under the new snow. Tessa tried to scramble back, but it was too late.
The tips of her skis rose, while her weight tilted her back. Something in her stomach somersaulted. She screamed. Windmilling her arms and the ski poles, she seemed to hover, suspended for an instant. Then the tails of her skis hit the ground. Both ski bindings released, catapulting her backwards, and she landed, with a crunch, on her back protector. Her helmet touched down, bouncing once. She tried to breathe, but the air had been knocked out of her.
A quiet, “Help,” escaped her. And then she just lay at the bottom of the hole.