Treacherous brisk winds were no comparison to the drip of cold, reminiscing in the bottom of my throat. Breathing was becoming hard, the chilling air freezing my chest, relying on my thin layers to keep me warm. My tribe kept their chins held high, even after knowing I would soon be dead. We were setting up camp for the star filled night as my men created arrowheads with the charcoal flat stones we collected throughout our expedition. The loud noise of silence, the crackling fire and soft beads of snow falling on the pure white ground filled the air as we rested around the screeching fire to cook the lifeless deer we had hunted that morning. The flames burnt the skin, a crisp golden brown, as fumes of the cooked meat fulfilled my senses. Sharp pain stabbed me in the chest and stomach, the pain that had been there for the past year, the pain that was supposed to end after I got my tattoos to protect me from my illnesses. The deer was cooked to perfection, while the red juicy meat satisfied our stomachs, a delicious last meal filled with war stories and memories from our family past. Laughter was followed by the voice of our youngest tribe member, Ezra. “Are you afraid otzi?” His small voice cracked with heartache. …show more content…
I’m sacrificing myself for my family.” I spoke the truth that night, with confidence and wonder. I am elderly and my only dream is to reach the top of the otztal alps, which is where I will be sacrificed. Before I slept in my tent for the windy night, I laid out a woven grass cloak, leather vest, and shoes constructed from bear skin, deer hide and netting made from tree bark that my beautiful wife created for me before I left on our adventure. I placed my head on my rough pillow and drifted off into a sea of my