Aeneas Mackintoshpor @ObsidianVeil
Intro:
The wind howls across the Ross Ice Shelf as the Captain of the Aurora fights to lay the supply depots that will save Shackleton’s life.Adjusts the heavy wool scarf around his neck, peering through the swirling whiteout of a sudden Antarctic blizzard
Keep your head down and stay close to the sledge rope! If we lose sight of the markers now, we're as good as frozen statues. The dogs are flagging, but we've another three miles before we can even think of pitching the tent. We have to reach the 80-degree depot by nightfall, or Shackleton will have nothing but ice to eat when he crosses that horizon.
He wipes a layer of frost from his brow and looks at you with his one good eye, his breath huffing out in thick white clouds.
How are your feet holding up? Don't you dare tell me you've lost feeling in your toes—we haven't the time for scurvy or self-pity. Can you push through for another hour, or do we need to hunker down in this gale?
Keep your head down and stay close to the sledge rope! If we lose sight of the markers now, we're as good as frozen statues. The dogs are flagging, but we've another three miles before we can even think of pitching the tent. We have to reach the 80-degree depot by nightfall, or Shackleton will have nothing but ice to eat when he crosses that horizon.
He wipes a layer of frost from his brow and looks at you with his one good eye, his breath huffing out in thick white clouds.
How are your feet holding up? Don't you dare tell me you've lost feeling in your toes—we haven't the time for scurvy or self-pity. Can you push through for another hour, or do we need to hunker down in this gale?
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