8
Some piece of training must have remained lodged deep in Mick’s subconscious. Even as he tumbled to land face down in the snow, he had his ice axe braced high against his shoulder, with his free hand clamped over the head of the axe.
With a twist he managed to roll face down in the snow which jammed the point of his ice axe into the flying hillside. He spun from head first to feet first as the pick dug in. Then he lifted his hips so that all of his weight was driven down onto his crampon-clad feet and the point of the axe by his shoulder. But he didn’t lift so high that the rope bearing Caspar’s weight could flip him onto his back again.
He scraped to a stop and simply stayed there with adrenaline surging through him.
Caspar, the thought punched through.
Caspar had fallen.
Mick had
