My husband and I were having a real hard time with this peak. The snow was biting out skin off. It must have been under 10 degrees out here, and with wind chill, I could feel my bones quivering. I had been training for this event for years; we were really into fitness, and we knew the Alps would be an incredible hike. We planned our vacation for this time of the year due to the challenge. It was supposed to be rough, but not this rough. In a terrible turn of events, a storm had ravaged the mountainside, and we were caught in the center of it.
I was 28, and my husband, Richard, was 30. My name is Angela. I have a slim frame carved from exercise and diet. My husband is similar, which drew us together. We met at a gym, and we were inseparable since. He isn't the type to get huge, but he's thin and lean and just how I like my men. The two of us shared lots of interests. We got married about two years ago, and we were still as passionate as ever.
This hike may have been one of our dumber ideas. We were getting a tad grouchy, but it didn't really matter since the storm was so loud we could hardly hear each other. Richard was about five feet in front of me. If he walked any further, he would be out of view, lost in the blizzard. I couldn't see anything, and I was pretty sure we were lost.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a decent sized tree blasted its way into us. Richard was somehow able to turn so it hit him in the back, but the impact sent him on top of me. We slammed hard on the ground. My already weak body was now stuck in the snow. I couldn't get him off of me.
"Is everything alright?" I yelled.
"It's my ankle!" he yelled back. "I think it's sprained!"