The Author Has Given Up On Chapter Titles

So cold. And I'm so tired. But I really need to keep going. My hands close around a shard of an icicle, which I trace over the skin of my arms- shit. That freezing cold thing meeting my arm was definitely a wakeup call of the worst variety for me. Shuffling forward just a little more, I can feel the metal beneath this spot feels a bit... weak. I don't trust it to put my weight on, but what other choice do I have? I inch slowly across the weak part, feeling it bend beneath me but not break yet- so far so good. Once I get across the particularly weak part, I feel like I can breathe again, and resume the shuffling towards the cold. I can feel it getting colder and colder the farther through the tunnel I go, although I know I can't give up yet. I do desperately want to though- the cold feels like it's sinking into my bones, freezing me from the inside out.

Just keep inching down the tunnel, I tell myself, and eventually I can save myself and my friends. It's tough, and my hands feel like they're bleeding- I'm definitely trailing blood from somewhere, but I can't feel a wound anywhere, only the cold.

Within the tunnel, it's impossible to tell how long I've been going. It could be five minutes or it could be five hours, and I would have no idea. Thinking about how long it could have been, I speed up, rushing through the tunnel at the cost of the skin on my elbows and hands. It still doesn't hurt, which is moderately concerning but I have bigger problems right now. Such as the freezing cold vent I'm pressed against on all sides. Eventually, I can see the light- and without any ceremony, the grate at the end of the vent is ripped off and I feel myself being dragged out...