It's only 35 degrees F, but it may as well be 90 with all the layers, gear, and climbing I had done. Sweat beads form and threaten to freeze on my forehead with the whisper of a delicate wind. Finally I find my foot on solid ground again, and I smile as I find myself filled with a feeling of home.I unhook myself and suck in a sharp breath. The fresh powder that had found its way to my private overhang remained untouched, and I scarcely dared to disturb it myself. Instead, I find a spot in the shadow of the rock that would allow me the opportunity to leave this place exactly as pristine as I'd found it. The world speaks out from its silent slumber in a love language that only we can share. My eyes close and I feel the world around me sending its energy to me, as I send my energy right back out to it. My fingers graze across my body slowly, almost unnoticeable through the many layers I wear. As though to answer the question I had yet to ask, my hands move with lightening speed, and I. Was it that obvious? Apparently so. At least that they were not French anyway. Max quickly paid the four hundred francs requested and they made their way into the gloomy interior. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the dimness but when they did they found themselves in a larger space than they might have thought from the outside. Maybe ten rows of seats spread to either side of them forming a semicircle around the stage. Well, to say a stage might be an exaggeration. Maybe ten rows of seats spread out to either side of them to form a semicircle around the platform down below. In the darkness they stumbled their way into a seats about five rows back. As they grew more accustomed they began to make out the shadowy figures around them. Some couples. Mostly men on their own. Not one single female. It was about half full, Max gauged as he relaxed into his seat. Martine had gone first and had only just spotted a man in the row and stopped to sit down leaving a vacant seat between.
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