“Are you going to talk to me or just watch me?” My voice sounds distant, distorted by the fog. I’m talking to two glowing white-blue orbs that have been floating next to me for the past hour, following my every upward step. “I’ve been here before. This is just like last time with the fog and the drones. It’s written in my dream journal,” I say out loud to no one but myself…knowing I’d never been here before. I’d been working the climb up to the Rifugio Frassanti below Col Malatrà for hours, days. I had seen the rifugio from below, looking like a landed spaceship aglow in the foggy night. But I’d lost sight of it, I was under it. No headlamps above or below me. Wet and cold and hungry and exhausted. I was alone on the mountain, making the final climb to 2920m (9700 ft) on the 6th and final night. It’s surreal. I’m awake and dreaming. I’m in constant search for the next yellow marker flag. The white-walker eyes appear next to me again. This time I simply smile and wave. This is TOR.
