It's a dry, cold and excessively quiet space. A lonely way to go. The minutes tick. I'm not sure exactly how much available air I have. It's the silence that makes me nervous.
Snow absorbs the sound within it, yet the sounds from above are amplified.
Even if I could call out for help, the searchers can't hear me. But I can hear them. I hear a loud stomping and feel the compression of snow, but then it's gone. Within seconds it's back, getting louder and sniffing. Scratching noises bring streams of snow falling in my face, then sunlight and then a furry, golden face.