I closed my eyes, the light of the sun shining red through my eyelids, despair welcoming me to its soft embrace. They might not even be looking yet. Another day, maybe two, before people started panicking about me and James. I didn't know how long it took someone to die like this, their heart beating too fast and their body losing the battle on every front. I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready to die. I was only twenty-four, barely out of college, with so much left to do and so much left to see. Nobody deserved to die like this, alone and cold, too weak to fight anymore.

Soft, lilting sounds tickled at the edge of my thoughts, drawing me away from despair. I couldn't place them, my mind sluggish and scrambled by fever. It was like hearing music just on the edge of audible, the notes all sounding discordant and incomprehensible until you suddenly get enough information for your brain to arrange it, going from noise to a song. At first, all I heard was weird, choppy sounds, like listening to someone talk through a fan. But then, all at once, they flew together into something real: voices. People saying words, talking to each other in the cheerful, friendly way people do when they're walking alongside each other, enjoying themselves.

Help, I thought, my cracked lips shaping the word. That wouldn't be good enough. Help, I thought again, and then I managed to say it, the word pale and fragile.

I panted, struggling to move, to get myself up, to follow those voices. It didn't matter that they were only backpackers; nobody goes into the backcountry without a way to contact civilization in an emergency. They'd have a satellite phone, or a GPS beacon, or something.

"Help," I got out again, managing to push myself up with one arm. "Please help."

I wasn't loud. I had no strength left, everything consumed by my battle with the invisible enemy within me. But it was enough, because the voices went silent, and then started talking again, sharp and upset. I didn't understand the words, spoken in a cadence I didn't recognize. Shapes appeared on the top of the granite, three familiar human silhouettes standing out against the pale blue sky. I didn't have to understand the language to recognize curse words as they caught sight of me.

Two of them dashed down the slope towards me, the third following behind. They reached me as my arm gave out, and one caught me. I looked up into his face, blinking and trying to focus on him. He was saying something, not to me, but over his shoulder, in liquid, musical words.