Ghost Lion Crag why don't i just take off my clothes and have a nightmare.

Artaax's ears twitched as he too heard the shifting of the rock and snow overhead. He glanced up to see the woman darting away before turning to look at the cloud of snow billowing above. He heavily considered remaining right where he was and seeing what happened. Maybe the whole mountain would collapse and bury him under it - wouldn't that be a fitting end? He was already buried deep enough under his misery to knock on death's door, why not be physically buried as well as metaphorically?

In the end, instinct kicked in and he moved - taking his bird and crawling back up into his hole on the opposite cliffs of the mountain where he was safe from the onslaught. He stepped out the next morning to peer down at the detris, thinking about how it could've been his grave if he could've just been more of a coward and let himself die. Why was it never that easy?