I looked back at the battered wreck of our aeroplane. The giant 747 lay at the end of its makeshift landing strip, like a fallen dragon; its last breaths forming plumes of smoke, even after defeat. A tell-tale passage of crushed and broken trees led away towards the distant mountains.
Around me people clung to one another, trudging slowly through the dense snow. The captain had insisted we were within a day’s walk of a weather station, and that once there we would be rescued and flown to our intended holiday spot. Until then however, we would have to survive the unrelenting cold, any animals we encountered, and stay alive. Jake (my little brother) grabbed my hand, nervously with both his, and we began to walk towards the setting sun.