Three thousand feet above the howling floor of the gorge, the wind on the Razor-Back Crest was a screaming, frozen demon of ice and snow. The temperature had plummeted to thirty-five degrees below freezing. Swirling blizzard squalls battered the narrow, two-foot-wide ridge of blue glacial ice, threatening to pluck any living creature from the rock and hurl them down into the bottomless black abyss flanking both sides of the knife-edge…
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