The storm rages her cold fingers constantly pulling him to the edge to, to the boiling mass of grey below. Icy shards bite at any patch of flesh that becomes exposed till in the end there is no pain....just the cold. The wind shrieks against the mountain, whispering to him "...rrrest....ssssleep......gggive up....". Tired, so very tired...every time he wants to stop, faces of friends and loved ones flash by urging him on. He keeps repeating "cant stop, cant let them down..must go on" till it becomes his mantra each time giving him strength....and so the battle continues.