Urkinmang Mountain, Nepal
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There was a ding from everyone’s watches. Sophie glanced at hers to discover it was noon. A faint blue glow appeared ahead of them, which quickly took the shape of a raven. Nop flapped her wings a few times before settling lightly on the snow.
“Hello! How are you all doing?” she asked.
“Hungry,” Sophie answered immediately. “Very hungry.”
“Good! Please sit down. Lunch will appear when you are ready.”
Miyamoto’s knees buckled, and he collapsed. “Ready.”
Peter flopped down, only slightly less controlled than Miyamoto. “Ready.”
Sophie glanced at Marie, who looked back with raised eyebrows. Being respectable ladies, they carefully sat down, settling into the snow as if it were a very cold chair.
In reality, the angle of the mountain was sharp enough that laying down felt more like sitting in a tilted-back rocking chair. Sophie found it quite comfortable. Granted, a bed of nails would have felt comfortable to her at this point, but that was neither here nor there.
“Ready,” she said.
Marie yawned. “Ready.”
Nop hopped in a circle, making a flat spot in the snow. When she finished, the area was filled with a blue glow. The glow faded, revealing eight water canteens and eight cylinders.
Sophie took one of the cylinders and unscrewed the top to find it was a wide-mouthed bottle filled with hot soup. She took a sip. It was thick, creamy, and delicious. The ingredients were a mystery to her, but she didn’t care. Being given food, she suddenly realized she was starving.
It didn’t take long for her to empty the first bottle, but Peter and Marie were already on their second when Sophie screwed her lid back on.
“Remember to breathe,” she told them, reaching for her second bottle.
Marie didn’t respond. Peter paused long enough to flash her an apologetic smile before returning to his soup.
“May I ask what this is made of?” Miyamoto asked Nop, taking his second bottle.
“The base is barley and beef stock,” Nop said. “Ask when you get back to your area, and I’ll provide you with a full list of ingredients.”
He nodded, squinting into the bottle.
Peter set his empty bottle down. “My compliments to your chef,” he said. “Any chance for a third?”
“No, sorry,” Nop replied.
“Never hurts to ask,” he sighed, laying back down. “Say, if it’s noon, why isn’t the sun out?”
“It is noon for you. The local time is three thirty in the morning.”
“I’m sorry?” Sophie asked. “How?”
“It’s a concept humans know, but haven’t fully grasped,” Nop said slowly.
Marie interrupted. “It’s noon at different times in different places. I’ve never been far enough outside the Caribbean to notice it other than on a watch, but if we’re halfway around the planet from there, makes sense it’s night here.”
Nop nodded. “Actually, your noon corresponds to the Hawaiian Archipelago.”
“Why?” Sophie asked.
“It’s the first part of the planet we explored. If you’d like to know why, I can give you a history book tonight.”
Peter sat up abruptly. “If we don’t move soon I’ll fall asleep. Everyone done eating?”
Nop hopped. “Actually, you’re required to stay in one place for half an hour. If you’re tired, imagine how the team that started at five in the morning feel. They got half an hour’s rest when the sixth team bailed, but in the spirit of fairness everyone is required to stop now.”
Peter yawned. “Ah, well, in that case…” He let himself fall back into the snow and pulled his hat over his eyes.
“I agree,” Marie said, copying him. “Wake me when it’s time to go.”
Sophie smiled, finishing her soup. She put the bottle back and stretched out on the snow. Stars sparkled above, seemingly close enough to touch.
Within seconds she was asleep.
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Marie could barely breathe. They were close to the final vertical climb, but she wasn’t sure she could make it. The only thing keeping her moving was the tug from Miyamoto’s rope.
As the afternoon had progressed, wind picked up. Not strong enough to knock anyone down, but it made the mountain feel colder than anything Marie had ever experienced. Air froze in her throat as she breathed. If there wasn’t any ice in her lungs she’d be surprised.
Finally her toe caught on something, and she fell. Marie collapsed into the snow, lacking the energy to move. She just wanted to sleep.
Peter yelled something, and the two men pulled her into a sitting position.
Sophie rubbed Marie’s hands between her own, asking something. Her words sounded far away.
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Marie closed her eyes. The group moved around, talking, calling. She let the words wash over her.
Eventually she felt someone poking her in the cheek, and opened her eyes. Sophie smiled, sitting back.
“Can you make it a bit further?” the girl asked. “Nop says if two of us reach the finish it’ll count as a win, but your distance behind us does matter.”
Peter added, “If you can make it to the cliff, Sophie and I will continue on while Miyamoto stays with you at the bottom.”
Miyamoto bowed. “I will help you walk.”
It took a few seconds for Marie to nod. The samurai bowed again, then hauled her to her feet. She wobbled a bit, but he held her steady. Peter and Sophie started walking, while Miyamoto waited for Marie to take a few steps before moving alongside her.
“Good lad,” she muttered.
“Thank you. Let me know if you need to stop,” he said.
Marie grunted, watching the younger members of the group pull ahead. The mountain was too silent; it made her nervous.
“Have you ever felt this cold?” she asked, just to start a conversation.
Miyamoto understood what she wanted. “Cold has a magical quality,” he said. “As soon as you’re warm, you forget what it felt like. I believe this is the coldest I have ever been, yes. But I believe that every time I climb a mountain. I’ve believed it every winter of my life. If we live to climb another mountain, I will believe that is the coldest I have ever been. Is it truly? Most likely not. But I believe it now and will believe it again.”
Marie slowly nodded. “Do you think heat is the same?”
“Either it isn’t, or I have not experienced true heat,” he said thoughtfully.
Marie kept asking questions as they made their way up the mountain. Miyamoto gave long-winded, philosophical answers to all of them. By the time they reached the cliff, Sophie was already pulling Peter up.
Marie sank down, leaning against the wall. Each breath hurt; everything inside her ached.
“This is ice,” Miyamoto stated.
With difficulty, Marie opened her eyes and turned to him.
He was touching the cliff, fascinated. “This isn’t rock,” he said, glancing at her. “It’s a glacier.”
“Interesting,” Marie yawned, closing her eyes again.
She heard him muttering, and opened one eye. He was on his knees, praying to the glacier. Or at least that’s what she guessed he was doing.
Marie’s eye wandered to the stars. She'd known several people who would pray when they saw beauty like this. Alas, she wasn't one of them. Instead, she fell asleep.
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Peter got to the edge and pulled himself over.
Thankfully, this area was almost flat. He took a few steps, smiling.
“I never imagined walking on a flat surface would feel so refreshing,” Sophie said.
“It’s so easy to walk here,” Peter agreed. “I could almost run!”
She giggled. “Almost. But I can’t.”
“A slow walk is best if we want to enjoy it, yes,” he said. “Where are we going?”
Sophie looked around, then pointed to where a hawk was flying in small circles. “I bet the end mark is directly under that.”
Peter nodded, but checked his compass all the same. “It’s east-south-east of us. Is that where we’re headed?”
Sophie paused. “Oh. Miyamoto has the map.”
“Oh.”
They looked at each other blankly for a few seconds, then Sophie giggled again. Peter snickered, and soon they were laughing so hard he felt light-headed.
“Let’s just go towards the hawk,” he eventually said, wiping tears out of his eyes.
“Excellent idea,” she said, taking a step. “Look, footprints!”
“From the teams before us?” he asked, squinting at snowed-in indentations.
“Who else could have made them?” she countered. “They’re heading towards the hawk; I’m certain that’s where we need to go.”
“Right. We don’t need a map!”
“Indeed not!”
“We left it with Miyamoto on purpose.”
“Precisely!”
They started walking, Sophie going first. They were both still faintly laughing.
It honestly wasn’t funny. But exhaustion combined with pain and extremely thin air was making Peter feel drunk. He was growing dizzy, which a part of him suspected meant he was about to faint.
They were so close to the finish. If he squinted he could see a red flag whipping in the wind. It was at most fifteen minutes away.
“We can do this,” he said, mostly to himself.
“We can,” Sophie echoed.
A hawk flew up to them and circled as they trudged through snow. Peter knew people were watching through the hawk, but it felt like he was being stared at by a bird. He wondered how tired he looked. Were Sophie and he more exhausted than the other teams had been at this point? Did it matter?
Suddenly a snowball hit him in the face. A few flakes stuck to his mask as he turned to look at Sophie.
She was focused on the flag, hands clasped behind her back.
Peter… decided it had been a hallucination. He shook his head, picking up his pace. Sophie moved faster, too.
Another snowball hit him, this time on the shoulder. He glared at Sophie, who was radiating innocence. Her walk was as proper and ladylike as possible for someone moving through two feet of snow.
She looked at him with wide, inquiring eyes.
Peter turned away, then looked back just as she bent over to scoop up more snow. He stopped walking.
Sophie stopped as well. She locked her gaze on his, slowly compressing the snow in her hands into a ball.
“Sophie,” he warned.
With one motion, she threw the snowball at his face and took off running for the flag. Well, “running” was the wrong word for someone hopping through thigh-height snow, but it’s what she was attempting.
Peter grabbed a fistful of snow, shoved it together, and threw it at her back. She laughed as it hit, tossing a snowball over her shoulder at him. He ran after her, dodging easily.
Somehow he forgot how tired he was as he chased Sophie towards the flag, both throwing snowballs as fast as they could make them. At some point a second hawk flew over to watch their battle.
Peter had better aim, but Sophie could make snowballs almost as fast as she threw them. When they were a dozen feet from the flag, Sophie tripped, landing face-first in the snow. In the spirit of competition, Peter dropped his latest snowball and ran for the flag.
Sophie yelled, scrambling after him. Peter laughed as a snowball hit him in the back of the head, launching himself at the flagpole. He hit the snow and slid the last few inches, his fingers grazing the pole. As he cheered, Sophie tripped over his boot, stumbled, and crashed into the flagpole.
A blue glow surrounded them as they laughed, accompanied by a now-familiar tingling.
The glow faded, leaving them in a warm room with Marie and Miyamoto. The air, which still seemed artificial to Peter, rushed into his lungs like a soothing balm. He gasped, his body insisting he do nothing but breathe.
“Did you roll to the finish?” Miyamoto asked, looking them over.
Sophie giggled. Before Peter could reply, Nop appeared.
“Congratulations on finishing your first competition! The current time is 5:12PM, meaning it took you eight hours and twelve minutes to make the climb. That’s faster than three other teams, but seven teams still have to finish.”
“Seven?” Sophie asked. “There was only one team behind us.”
“Six will compete tomorrow,” Nop said in an off-hand manner, then became formal again. “From here you will be sent to your individual rooms. Please remove all wet clothing and put them in the provided basket for cleaning. You have been given a garment to put on in their place. Dinner, the same soup from lunch, will be at six. Contest results will be shown tomorrow at 7PM; you will be allowed to leave your group area at 5PM. Any questions?”
They all replied in the negative, and were once again covered in the blue glow.