Laine watched the ski lifts slow then stop, seats rocking in the breeze. They wouldn’t move again until November.
She watched the sky bleed out, turning navy, then black.
She watched the moon climb the mountain, a fat silver coin so close its craters became part of the landscape. Then she slung her skis over her shoulder and headed up the trail. It was steep but easy to follow, and the March full moon was nearly as bright as early morning.
Bergen was already up top when she arrived, his long hair pulled into a low knot. He was taller than she realized, well over six feet, and his eyes were so pale they almost glowed in the dark. Looking at him she felt ten degrees colder.
He surprised her by grabbing her in a bear hug.
“Laine! You made it! I’m so glad you actually came.”
She pulled herself out of his grip, a tight smile on her face. Bergen’s missing teeth swallowed the moonlight like absent pixels on a screen, while his eyes reflected it. He looked so strange in the dark she took another step back.
“Of course,” she blurted, her eyes searching the snow for help. Skadi, she prayed silently, am I really doing this? Please make this ok.
She looked down the slope and considered how stupid it all was.
“I mean, of course I came. I couldn’t miss full moon skiing.” She forced a smile.
“It’s such an epic night and it’s so rad that you’re here,” Bergen said, genuinely surprised. “You are probably the coolest chick I’ve ever met!” Even he understood that this was an insane invitation.
Sweating under her gear, Laine struggled to settle her emotions. She needed to focus on the mountain. If this didn’t work out, her only way out was down.
The back country was pristine, and the moonlight bouncing off the snow was plenty bright to make it down safely. Chubby white cushions sat on the spruce branches, making the scene look as harmless as a wedding cake. In the valley below, she could just make out the yellow shine of civilization, the relative safety of people.
This was her mountain; she felt more comfortable here than she did in her own bed. Some random teenager was not going to take that from her. As long as she wasn’t looking at Bergen, his strange features and long spidery limbs, she felt okay.
“Ready to go?” Laine asked, tossing her skis down and stepping into them. She wasn’t going to accept any answer but yes.
“We’ll go slow. Safety first,” he said, grinning. Then he was off, nothing slow about it. She breathed out, relieved he’d gone ahead.
She shoved off a moment later, but Bergen carved through the snow like a bird through clouds. Laine saw powder puffing around him, evergreens parting to make his path. In a few seconds, he was out of sight.
“Great last day to be alive.”
Laine startled. She was already ten minutes ahead, deeply imagining every curve of the run she was about to ski. She had paid no attention to her lift partner, but now she turned, the lift rocking under them.
He was maybe nineteen, loose and lanky, with a cheap ski jacket and a sunburn on his nose. He sat with his long legs wide, and his skis crossed below hers in midair.
“I’m sorry?”
“Last day? Of the season? Couldn’t have asked for better conditions.”
“Oh. Yeah,” she gave him a polite smile. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“Ten inches of powder in March!” He continued. “I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah. The mountain has been kind.” She felt an ache in her center, the bitter unfairness of loving a winter sport. The last day always came too soon.
“I’m Bergen, by the way,” he said, and his lips curled open to reveal a jack-o-lantern smile.
“Oh, hi, nice to— I’m Laine,” she stumbled, distracted by his missing teeth. He lifted a glove to his face.
“Lost a couple on a jump. I was being stupid. Anyway, I figured I’d wait ‘till April to get new ones, just in case.”
Laine pictured him landing on his face, bloody teeth scattering in the snow, limp body sliding across the icy surface. She tried to erase the picture; bad luck to think about accidents. But she also remembered being 29, bombing down the mountain on a torn ACL because she couldn’t let her season evaporate.
“I hear you,” she said, as they approached the end of the lift. His obsession was familiar and comforting in its way. To be twenty again— unafraid, looking ahead to endless winters— it was nice to be reminded.
“April first you turn back into a real boy,” she added, hoping he would get the reference.
“Hey, maybe not. Maybe the season will never end. Maybe this year I turn into a Yeti!” He shouted, hopping off the lift.
She followed him to the ramp, thinking about what might come next. Maybe the season will never end. It was delicious to think that way.
“See you at the bottom?” She heard him yell but he was gone before she could answer.
You in a rush to bail on some jumps? Maybe land on your head a few more times? She smiled, shaking her head.
The sun was low and painted the mountain with molten gold. Laine came back to herself, accepting this might actually be her last run of the season. It was a serious slope, and she had to be mindful to make it down. She took a deep breath, leaned out over her skis, and let the wind take Bergen out of her mind.
The first drop was steep, and she felt a tightening in her chest as she gained speed. She welcomed fear, the way it sharpened her awareness and sped up her reaction time. As she made her way down, the mountain was generous. The swoosh and crunch on every turn lulled her into a flow state, nerves loosening. She soared, she swooped, the air tasted like Heaven.
The slope was empty so late in the season, the snow smooth and crisp. And yet, her mind wandered back to Bergen. Sure, he was young, but did it matter?
Maybe this is my year, she thought. My year to try something new.
As she coasted to the bottom of the slope there he was, all kinetic energy and hopefulness, hovering too close to the DJ at apres-ski. His jack-o-lantern grin floated beneath his goggles, black holes bordering what might have been great teeth. She smiled in his direction and kept going. If he followed, it wasn’t her doing.
“How was it?” He asked, catching up in an instant.
Destiny.
“Fantastic. Perfect last day, just like you said.”
“Listen, uh, I saw you ripping that black and I— um, do you ever ski the back country?”
“Sometimes,” she grinned, felt him falling into her hands.
He turned pink.
“Well, it’s a full moon tonight, and, uh, I’m going to hit a back country run through the trees after the lifts close. Close out the year with something epic. Clear sky, no wind. It’s gonna be so bright you won’t believe it. Sorry, am I being weird?” His jaw was stubbled and she saw a shadow of a bruise near his chin. For the first time she noticed his dimples.
“No, it’s not… you’re not.” She couldn’t see his eyes through the goggles but she tried to communicate eye contact.
“So, like, I don’t want to go alone. You know? Safety and stuff.” He knocked on his own sorry helmet, and this actually made Laine laugh.
“You wanna come with?”
“You know what? I think I do.” Laine’s stomach fluttered but she swallowed the butterflies. The kid was crazy and way too young, but she wanted to try something different.
Laine stopped turning and flew down the mountain in a straight line. She had to catch him, make sure he didn’t get to the bottom, or they’d have to go again.
Around a bend she watched a cloud of snow burst from the earth. He was right there. Ok Skadi, let’s go.
She yelled for him. She tried to sound desperate.
If he was dumb enough to turn his head in the trees, he deserved what was coming.
Anyone who skied the trees knew about spruce wells, where low, wide branches prevented snow from packing in next to a tree trunk. The hidden sinkhole that formed was a back country skier’s worst nightmare. Anyone would know to be careful.
If Bergen turned to look for her at the right moment, if his skis slipped out from under him, if he slid to a stop under a tree…there were a lot of ifs. But she was betting on him to be reckless, to ski so close that the branches whipped his shoulders. She was betting on the well to be deep, to swallow his long body in one gulp. She was betting on the walls to be fragile, too crumbly to climb.
If she could distract him, maybe Skadi would do the rest.
She slowed her descent, tasting ice crystals in the air. Then she heard it— a shout, followed by the clack of skis and poles. She couldn’t see where he was, but she listened as the walls of the well collapsed with a satisfied exhale.
Did it— did it work?
A bubbly, giddy feeling began to rise through Laine’s legs. Did it actually work? The snow around her glittered with possibility.
Cautious, she followed Bergen’s tracks to a clump of evergreens. It took some searching, but she found a disturbance under a huge tree with its lowest branches bare. Clumps of heavy snow fell from the spruce, landing with a sound like footsteps. She scooted toward the trunk, leaning over as far as she dared.
“Hey, Bergen? Can you hear me?”
She paused, listening for a grunt, a groan, a shout that would confirm there was an air pocket in the well. She hoped he was alive.
“Bergen are you there?”
This time she heard his voice. A muffled cry for help.
“Oh my God that IS you! YES! Let’s fucking gooooo!” She shouted, astonished at her plan’s success.
“Wow. WOW. Ok, listen, I’m not going to dig you out, but I don’t want you to take that personally.”
His voice got louder, screams through a pillow.
“Berg!” She shouted at the lump of snow. “Do you mind if I call you Berg? You gotta listen to me, man.”
She took off her helmet, shaking out her hair. The sweat at her hairline burned off in the frigid air.
“It’s just— I knew you were perfect when I saw your teeth. Reckless, trusting, loves an adventure. That’s you, right? Are you an Aries, Bergen? I bet you’re an Aries.”
“Anyway, when you invited me for full moon skiing, I was like wow. It’s like you wanted this.” She noticed the first few flakes drifting down from the sky.
“I mean, did you? Did you want this? A little? I think maybe you did.”
In seconds, ribbons of snow swirled paisley in the dark, wrapping the trees in white garland and surrounding Laine in a sparkling veil. The wind whipping at her ears didn’t even feel cold.
It actually worked!
A shriek built up in her chest and she howled at the air, her delight running over. In response, the mountain purred under Laine’s feet, content as a cat with a mouse. She smiled so big it hurt.
“She’s happy, Berg! The mountain is so happy.” She was so effervescent, she squealed, using her poles to ski a wide circle around the tree. The full moon made the snow twinkle like a disco ball.
“Oh man, I wish you could see this. It’s gorgeous!”
“I know this is probably like, unexpected, but you get it, right? The mountain, Skadi, whatever you want to call her. She wants people, Berg.”
She poked at the pile of snow with her pole until she heard a muffled shout.
“Ok great, you’re still there! There’s no one else I’ll be able to tell this to.”
“So anyway, I heard Skadi loves a sacrifice. Don’t ask who told me that, maybe I went in a shop I had no business in, maybe I read it on the internet. It doesn’t matter, Berg.”
“Happy Skadi means more snow, that’s the short version. Even you probably know that. But I didn’t think I’d pull it off— like how do you sacrifice a man, really? I’m five-foot-five, Berg! You’re like, twice my size. But when you said back country— well, that put this little idea in my head.”
“So yeah, my very first try and it worked! Can you believe that? And guess what Berg? I get to stay and ski forever— April, May, goddamn July! Seasons can’t stop me. You said it yourself!”
Laine leaned over, putting her wild eyes as close as she dared to the well. She shouted into the snowy sarcophagus.
“Bergen? Are you listening?”
The rough pile of snow over the spruce trap trembled, then began to settle.
“Do you remember what you said? On the lift? The season doesn’t have to end!”
She giggled. “Well, for me at least. It does have to end for you.”
The air was static with flurries. She watched the ground flatten, as Bergen’s frozen body was pulled into its granite grave. The flakes fell harder, covering their tracks in minutes.
When the mountain stilled and the snow kept falling, Laine was overcome. She swooped circles around the tree, full of fizzy joy. Her cheeks were warm, and she realized she had been crying.
Coasting to a stop, she ripped off a glove and unzipped her jacket, pressing a palm to her bare chest. Her heart pounded, her skin burned. She felt full of verve and power.
She understood she had done something sacred and she let the tears come. These were not for Bergen, not his little life. They were for his death, which made him huge and important. Transcendant.
She closed her eyes, breathing holy air through her nose, tasting the bracing cold of her god deep in her lungs.
So. This is religion, she thought. She looked down at her skis, blessed cassocks of the mountain.
Eventually, she began to carve her way down the slope, as loose and confident as she had ever felt.
The snow fell and fell.
This is a Custom Subscriber Story. Elite subscribers to Age of Aquarius get to star in their own tailored tale of woe. Are you brave enough?
I always thought I needed to be scared of falling off a mountain when I skied, I didn’t know I needed to be scared of falling *into* a mountain! But man, you make that ending sound like such a beautiful way to go…
I love this. It’s beautiful. The feeling of flying through fresh pale snow feels like nothing else, and your unmatched storytelling skills convey that sensation perfectly. I love the way in which your immaculate sentences build up of the mood of delicate suspense, subtle apprehension, and finally the character’s sense of acceptance towards the ending. I enjoyed the way the story structure integrates and contrasts day to day dialogue against a backdrop of the innocent and sublime beauty of the tall mountain snow. So good. I’m grateful for your brilliant writing. Thank you for sharing this wonderful story <3