The wind screamed a lonely song across the unforgiving slopes of Snowy Mountain, a relentless soundtrack to a night that descended with alarming speed. I’d made a rookie mistake – underestimating the mountain’s power and venturing too far in pursuit of a forgotten observatory, a rumour whispered among local hikers. Now, swallowed by darkness, I was paying the price.

Each step was a battle against the biting cold and the relentless snow. The silence, thick and heavy, was almost tangible. It wasn’t a peaceful silence; it was the kind that prickled the skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It felt as if the mountain itself was observing me, a silent, watchful presence.

My mind, weary from the exertion, began to play tricks. Shadows flickered in my peripheral vision, twisting familiar shapes into grotesque figures. Were they merely illusions born of exhaustion, or did something more sinister lurk within the mountain’s embrace? The line between reality and nightmare blurred with every gust of wind.

Then, a glimmer of hope. A small, stone shelter, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding rock, offered a fragile sanctuary from the elements. It was a meager refuge, but enough to escape the worst of the wind’s fury. I huddled inside, shivering, trying to regain my bearings.

But the respite was short-lived. A growing sense of unease settled upon me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone. The wind seemed to carry whispers, faint at first, then growing stronger, weaving tales of the mountain’s history and the secrets it held. They echoed the loneliness of the night, the desolation of the landscape, and a growing sense of dread.

Were these just the sounds of the wind playing tricks on my ears, or were they something more? Something ancient and unsettling, tied to the very soul of Snowy Mountain? I didn’t know, and the uncertainty was more terrifying than anything I could have imagined. The dark night had revealed a chilling truth: I was lost, vulnerable, and perhaps, not entirely alone.

The whispers continued, a constant reminder of the mountain’s watchful gaze. I knew I had to escape, to find my way back to safety before the darkness consumed me completely. But as I peered out into the swirling snow, I couldn't help but wonder: what secrets did Snowy Mountain hold, and what price would I pay for uncovering them?