Thorvald’s Wyrd 099
Waves of ice rolled over Thorvald, chunks striking his back and shoulders, and jarring Gungnir’s shaft enough to sting his palms. The frozen detritus began to accumulate around him, smaller bits gathering first but with larger masses quickly dropping into place. In moments, he knelt in a pile of ice and snow that nearly reached his waist, and Thorvald began to know a new fear.
The avalanche showed no sign of slowing, its noise drowning Thorvald’s very thoughts. As the pile of debris rose, he puffed out his chest, hoping to keep a tiny hollow of air.
Darkness swallowed him.