Onward to Kabul
Our horses drift further and further apart. We have been traveling for over ten hours. By nightfall we are following a small icy path on a cliff. Strong winds hurl sheets of jagged ice into our frozen faces. I'm suffering the effects of hypothermia, constantly pressing my shivering legs against my horse in an effort to stay on, and fearing that one slip would send me tumbling at least a thousand feet into the faint moonlit abyss below. We should have reached our destination, a mud hut, long ago, but it is nowhere in sight. I can only try to stay on my horse and pray that somehow I would get out of this alive.