Porcupine Ridge immortals

He had gotten himself in a bind traveling this far up the mountain.  The cold suited him but the heights sure didn't; he'd grown up in a forest by a river, where the nearby mountains were considered treacherous as they'd been held down by some other family that his own had been on shaky terms with.  Even in his weary days as a traveler he had yet to cross a mountain, for the foot of a mountain always seemed to be a sprawling pasture of green filled with prey and water as clear as day.  

But he'd wanted to see the sunrise from somewhere up high to see if it looked any better than it did from the ground.  He wanted to know what the trees looked like from above.  The sun had already risen (although just barely), but it would be a while before the sun melted the thin layers of ice on the higher rocks.  Climbing here was too treacherous for a novice like him.

Disappointed, he turned around and nearly slid, then paused at the crunch of snow.  Hey, is someone out there? he called, tail waving behind him.  I seem to've gotten myself into a bind.