I traveled the mountain side for many days and nights, no signs of life were found, just nail bitting, frost ridden air and snow covered cliffs; and I was hungry, oh so hungry.....so hungry it felt illegal and a form of punishment (which it technically was) to be this god damned hungry. Upon the eighteenth day, I put it upon myself to travel down the cliff sides.
The path was dangerous, many ledges crumbled upon the slightest increment of weight that was forced upon it. The frosty air chipped my nose and lips with its deadly touch, and the snow was up to my waist; and yes, I was still hungry.
I soon came across, what looked to be a remains of a landslide; taking the chance I extended my leg ever so slowly and began to glide down the cliff. I don't know what happened next, was it ice? Was I gaining speed as I descended? Or was it fate, but as I slowly skid down the mountain I began to go faster and faster to the point that I could barely see what was in front of me.
I hit a rock and flew threw the air, landing (unfortunately) on a cobble stone road that wound around the mountain base. The landing was a brutal one, I smacked my chest and pelvis against the harden'd rock hearing a few snaps and cracks; as if my bones were replaced by feeble sticks and cracked stones. (Sticks and stones do break your bones I guess).
As my tumbling seized, I turned to face the sky in acceptance; 'Perhaps I shall die here', I thought to my self and my vision soon became clouded. The last thing I see is the sun, being blocked by the silhouette of tall man.
End of Part 2
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