But, to no avail. My right foot's shot below the ankle. Crunching through the ice froze it stiff and now I cannot twist or bend it to any capacity. If I try to put any pressure or weight on it my achilles tendon creaks and a sharp pain shoots through the arch. I have resigned the use of it and merely drag it along as I explore this frozen wasteland.
Using whatever resources I had, I managed to figure out some things. You see, here in the frozen expanse, the winds whisper many secrets. I've had to develop a crude sense of echo location to make my way to what sounds like a low hum out in the distant horizon.
Often, while I tear pieces of the old tome to use as fodder for a fire, I hear strange and wonderful things in this vast and empty city of ice. It is said that when confronted with the bleakness or nothingness of a place, one's mind can begin to imagine things that aren't really there. In a sense, the mind fills in for lack of external stimuli. This might be an explanation for the sounds I hear at the edges and blind corners of this tundra. But, hardly an adequate one. Or a satisfying one, either.
But, I tire and so head slowly towards the low and distant hum. I can also make out some mountains up ahead where I hope to find some caves where I can escape from this hideous and beastly wind.
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