He Forced Me to Kowtow 10,000 Times on the Snowy Mountain Chapter 10

He Forced Me to Kowtow 10,000 Times on the Snowy Mountain Chapter 10

I heard everything that followed from Soren.

Hale joined the rescue crew up on the mountain and signed on as a long-term volunteer. He no

longer carried a rosary, but that frayed old cord stayed wrapped tight around his wrist every single

day.

He’d triple-check every safety rope before heading out on a mission. His teammates thought he

was overly stubborn.

He only ever gave them one line in reply. “The ropes can’t fail anyone again.”

The lead of the rescue crew stopped by the station one day to refill supplies and mentioned him

offhand.

“That Thorne guy’s obsessive about rope work, no joke. A rookie trainee tied a sloppy slipknot last week, and he made him undo and re-tie it four times straight.”

I was going over the kids’ homework and didn’t look up.

“Mhm.”

“You know him, don’t you? He’s mentioned you before.”

“Not really.”

Wren tilted her head up at me. “Aunt Rynne, who are the people you barely know?”

“Focus on your schoolwork.”

That winter turned brutally cold.

Snow buried every stretch of mountain terrain. The propane heater at the station broke twice, and Soren stayed up till three a.m. both nights fixing it.

Early the next morning, the radio blared a severe weather alert.

Monitors on the north slope picked up massive unstable snow layers-an avalanche could hit at any second. Every hiking group and mountain camp was ordered to evacuate right away.

By afternoon, word rolled in. An avalanche had ripped through the north gully, trapping a local family at the edge of the cliff.

The entire rescue team mobilized at once.

I stayed back at the station packing first-aid kits to treat whoever got hurt.

Soren took two doctors and headed up the slope first.

Dusk rolled around before the first batch of injured villagers was brought in. Three local herders, mostly superficial wounds and severe frostbite.

A little kid was brought in second. No older than seven or eight, his lips black with cold, his small fingers stiff and frozen solid.

Soren was tending to the boy’s frost damage when static crackled over the radio, broken bits of speech cutting through the noise.

“The cliff collapsed a second time. Multiple rescuers are trapped.”

“Only one safety line between two men-can’t hold both.”

“He cut his own auxiliary cord and pushed the kid clear.”

My hands froze mid-motion.

Wind and shouts blurred all the voices on the radio.

“Where’s he?” Soren snatched up the receiver.

“Swept away by the snow slide. Can’t spot him anywhere.”

“Who is it?”

“One of the long-term volunteers. Last name Thorne.”

The radio clattered onto the metal table.

Soren’s eyes shot to me. I was wrapping gauze around the boy’s frozen fingers, winding the bandage smooth and even without a single crooked layer.

Soren’s lips parted like he didn’t know what to say.

“I heard it all.”

I snipped the gauze and taped it secure.

The boy stammered through chattering teeth.

“That man pulled a knife and cut his own rope, then shoved me out of harm’s way.”

“He said something right before, but the wind was too loud—I couldn’t hear the words.”

I pulled a thick blanket over his tiny body. “Try to sleep. The pain will fade once you warm up.

I walked out through the gate, Soren stepped outside after me.

“The team’s still searching. There’s still a chance.”

“Go on with what you need to do.”

I walked to the back wash station to clean my hands.

The tap water was ice cold, the chill creeping from my fingertips all the way up to my elbows.

I stared at the slow drip from the faucet for a long while.

He’d sliced through his own auxiliary rope to push a child to safety.

Exactly what I’d done for Liora three years ago.

He finally understood.

Two days later, the rescue crew found his body halfway down the snow slope. That frayed cord bracelet was still wrapped around his wrist.

I was teaching the kids how to tie safety knots when Soren showed up at the classroom door with the news. He didn’t step inside. He waited until the lesson finished to walk over to me.

“They confirmed it’s him.”

I hummed a quiet acknowledgment.

“Do you want to go say goodbye?”

Behind us, the kids kept practicing their knots. Wren darted out of the classroom, holding up a lopsided, messy knot she’d tied.

“Aunt Rynne, did I do this right?”

“The left side’s loose. Tighten it one more loop.”

She ran back to her desk.

I watched her tiny back and murmured softly. “The mountain will take him home.’

Soren nodded and didn’t push me further.

A few days later, Wren tugged at my sleeve. “Aunt Rynne, who was the man that saved the little boy?”

I brushed a hand gently over her hair. “He’s someone who finally learned ropes are meant to save people. Does that make him good?”

“He made terrible mistakes once. But he never forgot what he learned after.”

Wren nodded like she half-understood.

“Did he ever say he was sorry?”

“He did.”

“Then did you forgive him?”

I knelt down to straighten her wool scarf.

“Wren, some things can’t be fixed with just an apology and forgiveness.”

She blinked up at me, confused. “When will it all be over then?”

“You’ll figure that out when you grow older.”

Then she sprinted off to play with the other children.

I stood in the yard, watching them chase each other through the snow.

I tugged the zipper of my worn shell jacket up twice before it caught and closed fully.

Every snow season, I teach the kids how to tie safety knots.

I tell them ropes aren’t meant to trap anyone-they exist to pull people to safety.

Winters up on the mountain stay just as harsh as ever.

But the jacket Rian picked out for me keeps me warm through every cold storm.