Below, a thin crevice carved into the rock. Above, the stars. I wasn’t quite at the roof of the world but I was definitely in some sort of grim penthouse. The cold didn’t bother me anymore, frostbite having chewed the nerves out of my extremities, and the cold wouldn’t claim me. Nor would the wolves that seemed determined to keep me on the mountainside. I’d decided to die on my own terms. I stepped into the void.
That morning, I’d been reflecting on how grand life can be as I cooked freshly caught whitefish on a pot-bellied stove, snug inside a lonely cabin by a frozen lake. This wasn’t The Long Dark [official site], this was an escape from the rat race, and I was happily prepared for the challenge of Timberwolf Mountain, looming overhead.