The cold floor under his feet made it real finally. One quiet moment away from the others, looking out at the wall of mountain summits against the deep blue velvet of the sparkling night sky. He rolled the cheap tumbler between his hands and smiled; first night in the Alps in far too long, a dram of malt and a belly full of a good meal cooked by someone else, and good friends.
The next day was going to bring adventure and fun, just as it always did. There were many joys in his life, but very few of them stacked up against the feel of wind in his face and the sound of his skis on the snow.
There is no way to describe the feeling of flying down a mountain under the power of gravity and body control, working both in harmony and against one another at the same time. In the past he had tried to explain the sense of release that he would feel as the edges bit and he set his body into a long sweeping carve across an empty piste. That perfect moment is beyond the ken of anyone who has not experienced it.
Time for bed.