I bend down to scoop up the freezing water into my makeshift wooden bucket. The icy cold river flowing over my hands, wind whipping loose hairs into my face.
Straightening up – the water bucket now full and the wire handle digging into my hand – a weak rays of sunlight shines through the snowy mountain peaks. Down the barren grasslands it goes, and onto the racing river. I look on, admiring the beauty of the wintry light on the dried out and freezing grass, the wind buffeting it this way and that. Dark, stormy clouds are beginning to form around the distant mountain tops, creating an ominous, wild scene. Surrounding me, enclosing me.
The river roars in my ears, the sound of the wind in the trees behind me prompts me to shiver and turn away, back to the relative shelter of the forest. Water sloshing over the sides of the bucket as I try not to bang it against my leg.