THE SEARCH
Leif runs along the trail into a cold headwind.
He moves with speed and agility. His thoughts are fixed on only where he’s putting his feet. The terrain has changed from spongy grass to a rocky trail, stones flying out beneath his heels.
Lactic acid builds, a burning sensation that tightens his calves. He keeps his breathing steady, in and out through his nose.
He can feel a thirst building in his throat but tells himself he won’t stop until the next peak.
He is aware he may be running toward a body—yet if there’s the smallest chance that the woman has somehow survived, then every second counts.
He’s known a climber who fell fifty meters, landed on a bed of pine needles, and only broke an ankle.
He’s known a man who fell from a three-rung stepladder and snapped his spinal cord.
He raises his gaze to Blafjell. Finds himself thinking of his father’s bravery in these mountains, the chances he took, the people he saved, the people he lost. Leif wonders what his own scorecard will look like by the end of the day.
He pushes forward, breath high in his chest. He glances at his watch. If he keeps his heart rate at 150 bpm, he can run on and on.
He’s always stayed fit. Hard not to with this on your doorstep.
He remembers exploring out here when he was a kid with Erik, Austin, Karin, and a couple of the other local kids.
They made up a game called Search, where one of them would close their eyes, and with a random stab on a trail map, they’d pick a point to race to.
It wasn’t only speed that counted but how well you could read the mountains and weather, how well you knew the terrain and your own capabilities.
Leif may have been the fittest, but Erik had an edge, taking risks, jumping between ledges, not pausing to think about a precarious landing or unstable ground.
Austin rarely arrived first—he lacked stamina—but he was happy enough to have a reason to be out of the house all day.
He often turned up with a black eye or split lip, and the others knew better than to ask.
Karin was the one Leif liked competing against because she was fast, tough, but most of all she had endurance.
That’s what won out on the mountain. Your ability to overcome.
Now, as Leif runs, he tries telling himself this is just another game of Search. Racing toward a random end point on a map. He doesn’t want to believe that he could be running toward a body. Doesn’t want to believe the description of Erik on the trail, head in his hands.
And yet, he can’t shake the fear.
He springs over a boulder in his path, his pack feeling light, his body able and strong. He’s grateful for it, knowing life is full of cruelty. Out here a woman was able-bodied hours ago—and now she lies twenty meters down.
The mountains are brutal. Impervious. They don’t care who is left broken and bloodied. They don’t care for weeping or joy.
It is why people lose themselves out here. There’s no judgment. You can be anyone in the wilderness.