Everything started when I came across an avalanche low on the mountainside some weeks ago. I'd been hearing about avalanches off and on, but seeing one that all but covered the path to the observatory left me wondering what could be going on. I've done a lot of backwoods hiking through the years, but none has ever led me into the snowier reaches of the world. A little checking in the library led me to believe that there was something uncanny about these particular avalanches.
I called in Sherlock. It's not something that's his typical area of expertise, but I knew he'd be the best one to sort the matter. He'd tackled comics coming to life in the streets of London. I knew he'd mount this problem as quickly as that one. And honestly, he'd been an absolute nuisance around the house without a proper case to focus on since our arrival in the Meadous.
We prepared for the trip--which is to say I prepared for it--gathering the supplies we'd need. After that, it was a quick request to Dr. Stephen Strange for a portal into the lodge at the summit of one of the mountains, and we were off. We decided the wisest course would be to traverse the paths, searching for signs of avalanches or slopes that looked prone to them. Sherlock had consumed what I'm fairly certain might be an encyclopedia's worth of facts about avalanches and filled me in on literally every detail I never wanted to know about them as we walked.
It wasn't too long until we reached a fork in the path. Sherlock was checking down one of the slopes and I happened to glance down the other way. That's when I saw it! I couldn't be sure, but there was some sort of strange shadow on the mountainside, up the slope. Almost as soon as I spotted it, it was gone, though. Sherlock took us that way and we came across our first avalanche.
I was just getting up it with our case hound, Black Bart, when Sherlock took off like a shot up the mountain, apparently forgetting everything he'd just told me about how unstable avalanches could be. When I finally made it up to where he was, he was lying in the snow, all but face down. I asked him what he was on about and he jumped up like a man possessed. He'd found a foot print! Or a paw print? It was huge, whatever it was. Sherlock estimated the creature must have been ten feet tall and sixty-four stone at a minimum. He'd found a few curly white hairs, as well, but whatever had made it--our yeti--had disappeared into the snow.
[There's a printed picture of the the indentation that looks like cross between a bear and a human footprint.]
Thinking quickly for a pincer move, Sherlock sent me back down the slope while he stayed up at the top and made use of the magic compass we'd won as part of one of Zephyr's challenges some time back. I saw him off and on throughout the day, cutting a lonesome, striking figure in the distance. The wind was relentless and whipped his dark curls and the loose edges of his scarf back whenever I caught a glimpse. He would have looked even cooler with his usual Belstaff coat, collar turned up, but that had gone into the ocean a little while before. Still need to get that replaced.
[There's a printed photo of Sherlock looking suitably dramatic in profile against the mountain. He's gazing off into the distance with the wind, indeed, whipping his hair and scarf back.]
I didn't see much down where I was, just tried to keep Black Bart from running off too far into the snow. The sun was getting low in the sky when I called for Sherlock, and we set up camp on the side of the mountain. I learned from him that he'd come across places that looked like our yeti had been standing and watching from. And there was something else. There was more than one of them! He said it looked like there were probably three of them. The extra two were smaller. Baby yetis? Or at least adolescents. I wanted to catch a real glimpse of them! Could they be the cause of the avalanches?
The wind was howling down the mountain that night, but even then, we could hear the telltale sounds of avalanches in the distance. It's what was nearby we should've been more concerned about. As we came out of the tent the next morning, we found signs of nighttime visitors. On the leeward side of the tent. There were drawings, one of them even looked like Black Bart.
[And another picture, this time of the crude snow drawings of the puppy.]
After a brief and animated discussion on how to proceed, Sherlock went back up the mountain while I stayed downslope and followed the path with Black Bart. Or what was left of the path. The avalanches overnight had all but wiped it out. It was treacherous-going, but we soldiered on, keeping an eye out for Sherlock as we went. It was pushing toward eleven o'clock when I came to an area that was probably the most unstable I'd seen. Black Bart had been running atop the packed snow for the most part, but he kept falling through here. I wanted to call for Sherlock and let him know we were going to need to find a different way around when the whole mountainside started to shift. I remembered what he'd told me about what to do when you were caught in an avalanche, but before I'd managed to do more than turn to the side to start swimming across it, there was something grabbing me.
It was the yeti! She was huge, completely white and covered in fur from head to toe. her face was gray and she had enormous curling horns. She grabbed me around the middle with one arm and snatched Black Bart with the other and just started hauling us. She ran faster than anything I'd ever seen, right across the top of the snow. Light as a feather somehow. We were carried away for maybe half a mile before I finally wrestled my way free and she stopped. I got my gun out and held that on her, telling her I wasn't leaving my friend behind on the mountain.
Sherlock caught up to us after that. He thanked her for saving me and Black Bart, which... well, I did that, as well. Only seemed right, all things considered. He demanded to know who she was and that's how we met Winter and her sons, Mistral and Bora. They were about eight-years-old. Nice lads. Very interested in Black Bart, along with petting me and Sherlock. They were at least five and a half feet tall. Rounder than their mum, and friendlier.
[There's a final attached print picture of Winter and her two sons. The boys have horns, but they're tiny and only just starting to poke out.]
It turned out, Winter had been the cause of the avalanches. They were designed to discourage anyone from coming up the mountain so her boys could play in peace. She was worried people might see them and try to hurt them. It's something every parent has to worry about, I reckon, strangers taking advantage of their kids. Sherlock managed to convince her that no one meant her or her children harm. Winter agreed to stop the avalanches and clear the paths provided we let everyone know that her children were not to be harmed. Winter also let us know about Mistral and Bora's father, Sirocco. She said he was wandering in some of the other mountains and didn't help out in caring for his sons at all. I think some of the concern for her kids might have come from worrying over Sirocco not being there to help her.
And there it is. The mystery of the avalanches solved! I've let Winter know we might leave messages for her near the mountain lodge now and again, and she's agreed to leave similar messages there for us in case anything comes up. Not a bad turn for a couple of amateur mountaineers and avalanche chasers, I'd say!
The Abominable Snowmum
I called in Sherlock. It's not something that's his typical area of expertise, but I knew he'd be the best one to sort the matter. He'd tackled comics coming to life in the streets of London. I knew he'd mount this problem as quickly as that one. And honestly, he'd been an absolute nuisance around the house without a proper case to focus on since our arrival in the Meadous.
We prepared for the trip--which is to say I prepared for it--gathering the supplies we'd need. After that, it was a quick request to Dr. Stephen Strange for a portal into the lodge at the summit of one of the mountains, and we were off. We decided the wisest course would be to traverse the paths, searching for signs of avalanches or slopes that looked prone to them. Sherlock had consumed what I'm fairly certain might be an encyclopedia's worth of facts about avalanches and filled me in on literally every detail I never wanted to know about them as we walked.
It wasn't too long until we reached a fork in the path. Sherlock was checking down one of the slopes and I happened to glance down the other way. That's when I saw it! I couldn't be sure, but there was some sort of strange shadow on the mountainside, up the slope. Almost as soon as I spotted it, it was gone, though. Sherlock took us that way and we came across our first avalanche.
I was just getting up it with our case hound, Black Bart, when Sherlock took off like a shot up the mountain, apparently forgetting everything he'd just told me about how unstable avalanches could be. When I finally made it up to where he was, he was lying in the snow, all but face down. I asked him what he was on about and he jumped up like a man possessed. He'd found a foot print! Or a paw print? It was huge, whatever it was. Sherlock estimated the creature must have been ten feet tall and sixty-four stone at a minimum. He'd found a few curly white hairs, as well, but whatever had made it--our yeti--had disappeared into the snow.
[There's a printed picture of the the indentation that looks like cross between a bear and a human footprint.]
Thinking quickly for a pincer move, Sherlock sent me back down the slope while he stayed up at the top and made use of the magic compass we'd won as part of one of Zephyr's challenges some time back. I saw him off and on throughout the day, cutting a lonesome, striking figure in the distance. The wind was relentless and whipped his dark curls and the loose edges of his scarf back whenever I caught a glimpse. He would have looked even cooler with his usual Belstaff coat, collar turned up, but that had gone into the ocean a little while before. Still need to get that replaced.
[There's a printed photo of Sherlock looking suitably dramatic in profile against the mountain. He's gazing off into the distance with the wind, indeed, whipping his hair and scarf back.]
I didn't see much down where I was, just tried to keep Black Bart from running off too far into the snow. The sun was getting low in the sky when I called for Sherlock, and we set up camp on the side of the mountain. I learned from him that he'd come across places that looked like our yeti had been standing and watching from. And there was something else. There was more than one of them! He said it looked like there were probably three of them. The extra two were smaller. Baby yetis? Or at least adolescents. I wanted to catch a real glimpse of them! Could they be the cause of the avalanches?
The wind was howling down the mountain that night, but even then, we could hear the telltale sounds of avalanches in the distance. It's what was nearby we should've been more concerned about. As we came out of the tent the next morning, we found signs of nighttime visitors. On the leeward side of the tent. There were drawings, one of them even looked like Black Bart.
[And another picture, this time of the crude snow drawings of the puppy.]
After a brief and animated discussion on how to proceed, Sherlock went back up the mountain while I stayed downslope and followed the path with Black Bart. Or what was left of the path. The avalanches overnight had all but wiped it out. It was treacherous-going, but we soldiered on, keeping an eye out for Sherlock as we went. It was pushing toward eleven o'clock when I came to an area that was probably the most unstable I'd seen. Black Bart had been running atop the packed snow for the most part, but he kept falling through here. I wanted to call for Sherlock and let him know we were going to need to find a different way around when the whole mountainside started to shift. I remembered what he'd told me about what to do when you were caught in an avalanche, but before I'd managed to do more than turn to the side to start swimming across it, there was something grabbing me.
It was the yeti! She was huge, completely white and covered in fur from head to toe. her face was gray and she had enormous curling horns. She grabbed me around the middle with one arm and snatched Black Bart with the other and just started hauling us. She ran faster than anything I'd ever seen, right across the top of the snow. Light as a feather somehow. We were carried away for maybe half a mile before I finally wrestled my way free and she stopped. I got my gun out and held that on her, telling her I wasn't leaving my friend behind on the mountain.
Sherlock caught up to us after that. He thanked her for saving me and Black Bart, which... well, I did that, as well. Only seemed right, all things considered. He demanded to know who she was and that's how we met Winter and her sons, Mistral and Bora. They were about eight-years-old. Nice lads. Very interested in Black Bart, along with petting me and Sherlock. They were at least five and a half feet tall. Rounder than their mum, and friendlier.
[There's a final attached print picture of Winter and her two sons. The boys have horns, but they're tiny and only just starting to poke out.]
It turned out, Winter had been the cause of the avalanches. They were designed to discourage anyone from coming up the mountain so her boys could play in peace. She was worried people might see them and try to hurt them. It's something every parent has to worry about, I reckon, strangers taking advantage of their kids. Sherlock managed to convince her that no one meant her or her children harm. Winter agreed to stop the avalanches and clear the paths provided we let everyone know that her children were not to be harmed. Winter also let us know about Mistral and Bora's father, Sirocco. She said he was wandering in some of the other mountains and didn't help out in caring for his sons at all. I think some of the concern for her kids might have come from worrying over Sirocco not being there to help her.
And there it is. The mystery of the avalanches solved! I've let Winter know we might leave messages for her near the mountain lodge now and again, and she's agreed to leave similar messages there for us in case anything comes up. Not a bad turn for a couple of amateur mountaineers and avalanche chasers, I'd say!