Andrey

The top station. A sign reading "Extreme Descent." The black slope of K2 dropped off like a nearly vertical wall. I'm a professional, with World Cup titles and stages under my belt. I can handle this.

The first ten meters were easy. My edges slid through the icy crust like butter. Adrenaline drowned out caution. Instead of slowing down, I stepped on the gas. The mistake cost me a moment. Under the thin layer of powder was buried ice—a crust as hard as concrete. The skis didn't even squeal, they simply lost their grip. A moment of weightlessness—and the world turned into a kaleidoscope of sky, snow, and my own hands, futilely trying to grab onto something. I tumbled head over heels, gaining speed with every second. My mind was working clearly: "Tuck!", but my body wouldn't obey. A shoulder hit, a headbutt, the crunch of plastic, the grinding of bindings—and finally, the viscous silence of the snowdrift into which I crashed backwards.

I woke up in a snowdrift. Above me was blue sky and a sharp pain in my knee. My right ski was gone. I was alone in the white silence. How long I lay there, I don't know. Professional pride gave way to primal terror. There was no phone, my screams were drowned out by the wind. I opened my eyes. Above me was a piercing blue sky and a sharp pain in my left knee. It was hard to breathe. I moved and realized my right leg was empty. The ski remained somewhere above, on the icy shell. How long did I lie there—five minutes or half an hour? I don't know. My thoughts were confused. Professional pride gave way to primal terror. There was no phone in my pocket, my screams were drowned out by the wind. The rescuer appeared out of nowhere. He didn't fly down—he descended with precision, precision, and calm. He wore baggy pants and a jacket with a red cross. He stopped a meter away, raising a cloud of snow. "You've got some fun, professionals ," his voice muffled from under his mask, but there was no judgment in it, just a tired statement of fact. He unclipped his skis, stuck them into the snow, and walked over. He knelt down next to her. "Where does it hurt?" I answered hoarsely -Knee... And in the chest... He nodded, unzipped the first aid kit, and sat down in the snow, shielding me from the wind with his back.