118

1994

It was lovely off-piste. The fresh snow, the whole of nature just for them. That was how they met, in the mountains. Except that now she has a broken ankle (although he says it’s just a nasty sprain) and the idea of fresh snow and nature all for themselves is no longer so romantic.

Snow, nature. And no emergency services.

He is not discouraged, he’s not like that. He lifts her over his shoulder and starts retracing his steps, following the ski trail. She’s a heavy load, but he knows he can make it. He’s fit, and it’s just another adventure to tell your friends about, nothing more.

Except that then it starts to snow. Well, of course it does. They are in the mountains, and it is late November. The weather forecaster was not talking nonsense. And that is a problem. There’s too much snow. The tracks are like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs: they are disappearing.

The trees all look the same. The snowfall turns into a blizzard. Then it is dark. And cold. The cold bites at your muscles and your voice becomes hoarse. But there is nobody about. Only nature, just for them.

They do not realise how scared they are until a man emerges from out of the blizzard. He is blind in one eye, but he has a beautiful smile. Just like a Hollywood actor.

He looks like an old man, especially because of the greatcoat he is wearing, but he cannot be that old, judging from how easily he puts the girl over his shoulder.

Lucky for them, because the young man’s at the end of his tether.

The older man points to the top of the mountain. Up there is the house of Voter Simon, he says, a man of faith. They can wait there for the blizzard to pass, and in the meantime he will give them something warm.

I was hungry and you gave me food.

Thus it is written.

The young man can barely hear him; he walks right behind him and cannot stop thanking him.

In the wind, the older man walks and starts chanting.