The parents decided to take Mike to the hospital, just to be on the safe side. Michael looked impossibly small beneath the bright white lights. A nurse checked his temperature, his pulse, and the pale tips of his toes while Angela held his hand as if letting go might make the night repeat itself. Mathew stood nearby, unable to stop watching his son’s chest rise and fall. The doctor spoke gently, explaining that Michael was cold, exhausted, and a bit shaken, but somehow had no serious injuries.
A few hours later, Michael was wrapped in a warm blanket with a cup of hot chocolate balanced carefully in both hands. His cheeks had color again, and he was already telling the nurse how he had tried to make fire with two stones. Mathew and Angela exchanged a look, half laughter and half tears. The mountain had nearly taken their son from them, but now he was sitting between them, sleepy and safe, asking when they could finally go home.