I was at peace going down the fresh powder, it was a black diamond run but my mind was clear. I couldn’t see my skis past the freshly fallen snow but I could feel them grab, I built up enough  speed that I wasn’t thinking about skiing anymore I just was, I got to the bottom and I was waiting with my cousin for my sister and dad. It was normal for us to be at the bottom first. We were talking  and enjoying the crisp weather. Time had passed and we started to become curious, there were no other lifts at the bottom of this hill. This was the third time we had gone down it, nevertheless we waited, it wasn’t alarming yet, we both acted calm but slowly our suspicions were building. Becoming impatient, the sound of skis in the snow became more and more grating. We waited longer and longer until we saw her slide around the corner on her skis barely standing using my dad as support. They went by us and told us to get in line at the lift because we were going back up, we tried to ask what happened but she was out of breath and seemed

to be in lots of pain. My dad said that she fell really hard halfway down and lost both of her skis. They got on the lift in front of us but I could see her whole body wince when the lift hit her. The lift felt like an eternity shadowed in confusion and worry, when we finally arrived at the top it seemed as though the worry had manifested itself into a blizzard with extreme wind and heavy snow. I could barely make out my sister laying down in a snowbank and shortly after a snowmobile whipped up to the mountain and loaded my sister into a carrier and hurried down the mountain, I had so many questions that were not answered until the end of the day but my dad told me and my cousin to just enjoy the rest of the day and ski all we want. We did but the rest felt overcast like the accident hid the sun from us.