Peak of Spirit Transformation

Lassim continued his quick descent down the mountain, keeping a wary eye out for any sign of the yeti as he sped along. 

His breath came in ragged gasps, the frigid air burning his lungs that the broken ribs were pressing hard against with every step. 

He paused periodically to listen, but the only sounds were the howling wind and the crunch of his boots on the snow. 

After what felt like an eternity, he was confident the yeti had stopped following him.

He slowed his pace and began scanning the area for a place to rest. He was in dire need to address his wounds. 

The mountainside was treacherous, with sheer cliffs and deep snowdrifts, but he eventually spotted a dark opening in the rock face—a cave with a small entrance, nearly invisible had he not had his spirit sense scanning the area, that would provide some shelter from the elements. 

Lassim hurried toward it, eager to get out of the relentless blizzard.