Kholat Syakhl, USSR, 1959.

“We need to make camp!” Zina shouted over the howling wind. Rustem had collapsed behind her. Snow swirled around them, quickly filling their tracks and obscuring most of the rest of the team. She could see Nikolai and the Yuris tied to each other ahead; the rest of the crew was lost in white.

“We’ll have to camp here instead of the tree line,” Igor instructed as he and the team congregated around their fallen comrade. “Sasha, you and the Yuris set up the tent. Nikolai, stay with Rustem. The rest of us will start a fire.” The crew untethered themselves and set about their tasks. Soon, a small fire was blazing, protected from the wind in a shallow snow pit, with the tent securely staked behind it. Zina stayed outside with Sasha to boil snow for water while the rest of the team carried Rustem inside the shelter.

The wind was raging now. Zina could barely hear Sasha as they tried to converse, so they soon abandoned it in favor of silence. They bounced on their heels to keep blood flowing as they soaked up as much warmth as possible from the fire.

“What’s that?” Sasha asked, standing up suddenly. He stared in the direction they had been headed before Rustem collapsed. Zina turned and followed his gaze as best she could.

“I can’t see shit,” Zina replied, turning back to the fire. Sasha stayed standing, his eyes locked on the horizon. The pot started to boil, so Zina filled a thermos with the water and added more snow to the pot for the next batch. After casting a furtive glance towards Sasha and then the distant tree line, she carried the bottle into the tent. Nikolai stood up and patted Zina on the shoulder as she passed.

“I’ll get the next round,” said Nikolai.

“Keep an eye on Sasha?” Zina asked. “He’s acting strange.”

“Sure.”

Rustem lay in his sleeping bag in the center of the large tent, the Yuris next to him stripped naked to the waist to try to warm him. Mila had her fingers pressed to Rustem’s neck, measuring his pulse. She shook her head solemnly. Rustem was not faring well. Suddenly, a sharp scream from outside cut through shrieking wind. All six of the conscious heads turned towards the door to see what happened.

Zina cautiously pushed aside a tent flap and gazed outside. The fire still blazed with the pot steaming above it, but Sasha could no longer be seen.

“Sasha is gone…” Zina reported incredulously. The fire was mere feet from the tent; both men should have been clearly visible, but she could only see Nikolai staring towards the tree line. “Where did he… Wait, I think I see him.” A figure strode out of the white, but it wasn’t Sasha. This person was not appropriately clad for the weather, but he seemed entirely unconcerned with the storm. Bare-chested and unafraid, he marched steadily towards the tent with a large staff clutched in one hand. His long hair swayed with nothing but his own movement, not with the gusting wind. The snow and the wind instead blew around him as though he were standing in the eye of his own personal hurricane. An ethereal green light emanated from the staff and shimmered in the air around him. Zina watched helplessly as the strange man pointed his staff at Nikolai and then swung it dramatically over his head. With a scream, Nikolai shot into the air and out of Zina’s sight.

“Nikolai!” Mila shouted next to Zina’s ear. With a primal scream, she ran out of the tent towards their unknown attacker. The strange man swung his staff again and sent Mila flying towards the trees. Zina could hear crunching bone and cracking branches in the distance and marveled at the force that must have required.

“Stay inside,” Zina instructed the remaining members of the team. “We’ll be safer together.” She closed the tent flaps so she could just barely peek through and still see the unknown assailant. If the man continued to assault them, their best chance was to wait and overpower him with their superior numbers.

“What’s going on?” Igor asked.

“There’s a man out there, some type of magi. He’s probably killed Sasha, Niko, and Mila,” Zina reported. The man outside pointed his staff towards the tent. “He’s going to keep attacking,” she exclaimed. A loud whumpf sounded behind them, and the team turned to look at Igor.

“Avalanche,” Igor whispered. He sliced the side of the tent open with his knife. “Run!”

Zina, the Yuris, Alexander, and Igor bolted through the hole, away from the man with the staff and the booming avalanche. If they could make it to the tree line, they might have a chance. Zina let out a weary sigh of relief as the shape of pine trees came into view. They were going to be okay.

“We’re fucked,” one of the Yuris said as they dove behind a fallen tree. “Our gear is back in the tent.”

“Alexander, Yuris, make a fire. Zina, let’s get our gear back,” Igor instructed, “The avalanche should have buried that man.” Zina nodded and followed Igor back into the calming storm.

“It’s not possible,” Igor said as the man with the staff materialized in front of them again. Zina watched as he lifted the staff in both hands above his head, the green glow intensifying. As the man slowly lowered his staff, the air began to freeze around them. Igor collapsed in front of her; she noticed he only had on one shoe. He must have not had time to pull both on before fleeing the tent. Zina fell to her knees, trying to hold onto the meager warmth her jacket provided. Her vision faded to black as her eyes began to freeze and blood stopped flowing to her brain.

‘At least I’m getting warm again,’ Zina thought as she exhaled her final breath.