The Mountain Hut – Part 1: Snow on the Pass

The storm came over the Dolomites without warning. One minute Lina was walking along a ridge of pale limestone, the sun warm on her shoulders and the valley spread out below in green and gold. The next, the clouds rolled in grey and heavy, and the first hail hit her jacket like thrown gravel.

She ran. The path was narrow and slick, and her boots slid on the wet rock. She could see a building below, a small stone hut with a red roof, and she ran towards it with her heart pounding and her breath burning in her throat.

The door was open. A dog barked once, then came bounding out to meet her, tail wagging, a huge shaggy creature with one ear up and one ear down.

"Gigi, come back," shouted a voice from inside. "She's not a sheep!"

A man appeared in the doorway. He was tall and lean, in a thick green fleece and a faded red cap, his face weathered and his eyes a clear, startled blue.

"You're soaked," he said, in English. "You're going to die of cold if you stand there."

"I'm fine," said Lina, through chattering teeth.

"You're not fine. Come in."

The hut was warm and dark, lit by a single lamp and a wood stove that crackled in the corner. Bunks lined the walls. Maps hung beside a rack of ropes and ice axes. The dog, Gigi, shook herself with enormous enthusiasm all over Lina's boots.

"I'm Matteo," said the man. "I'm the guide. I'm also the only person who has ever been fool enough to stay here in October."

"I'm Lina. I'm the fool who thought she could cross the pass before the storm."

"You couldn't."

"I'm beginning to understand that."

Matteo pulled a towel from a hook and tossed it to her, then began to build up the stove. He worked quickly, quietly, the way someone does when they know exactly what to do in a crisis.

"There's one bunk left," he said, without turning round. "The others are all booked by the search team. You can have it. I'll sleep on the bench."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to," said Matteo. "I'm doing it because I'm a gentleman, and because you look like you'll fall asleep standing up."

She laughed, a little weakly, and sank onto a wooden stool by the stove. The heat hit her face, and the storm roared outside, shaking the shutters.

"Can I ask you something?" said Matteo, after a while, setting a mug of hot chocolate in front of her.

"Yes."

"Why are you up here alone?"

Lina wrapped her hands around the mug. "Because I needed to be somewhere nobody could ask me what I was doing with my life," she said honestly. "I'm supposed to be a doctor in Milan. I'm not. I'm a very tired paramedic who hasn't taken a holiday in four years."

Matteo was quiet for a moment, watching her face.

"Then you're in the right place," he said. "The mountains don't ask questions. They just make you carry your own weight."

"Is that what you tell your clients?"

"It's what I tell myself," said Matteo, with a small, crooked smile. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Yes."

"Would you like me to sit with you by the stove tonight, and tell you about every mountain in the Dolomites that I've ever nearly died on? Only if you want to hear it. And only if you promise to laugh when I'm being dramatic."

Lina laughed, shakily, and her cold fingers found the warmth of the mug again.

"Yes," she said. "But only if you tell me one thing you're afraid of, first."

Matteo looked at the stove, the flames dancing red and gold behind the iron door.

"I'm afraid of staying," he said quietly. "I've spent so long leaving that I'm not sure I know how to stop."

"Then we'll stay," said Lina, "tonight, at least. And see how it feels."

"Green?" asked Matteo, very softly.

"Green," said Lina. "Very green. Now tell me about the first mountain."