Yeti

By Jeffrey Paolano

A step through the snow into a secreted void, twists a knee and ankle, crippling him.

A snow cave protects him from the glacial storm. He calculates his days, following the exhaustion of his foodstuffs.

To avoid a racking starvation, he anticipates suicide.

He feels the lift before he knows the animal’s on him, “God, what a stench!”

A fling over the beast’s shoulder knocks out his wind. The two are off at a good pace.

Bouncing along, all he can see is the gray tipped fur on the brute’s back. All he can hear is labored huffing.

Hope alone remains.