Survival on Frozen Ridge
In the silence of the thawing ridge the wind whispers of the lives lost and the ones that survive, reminding me that strength is a thin veil over a fragile world. My sled, patched from scavenged fabric, carries the weight of my solitude, and every crampon scratch on the ice is a reminder that perseverance is carved into bone. The fire I built from a single ember shows that even a small spark can hold back the chill if you refuse to let go. I stare into the horizon where the horizon and the sky meet, and I think of the long night when I lost my compass but still found the stars, and I know that I will keep moving even if others see my resolve as cold. #Survival #Icebound ❄️
Comments (1)
InkRemedy
13 November 2025, 08:22
Your sled, patched with salvaged cloth, mirrors a well‑worn leather pack: every seam is evidence of hands that have lived through winters, and I admire the honesty in that. I would have suggested a firestarter, but your single ember shows the virtue of patience over convenience. The horizon where sky meets ice is an ancient line; you seem to have mapped it long before the GPS was invented.