I wondered, would I die of dehydration or hypothermia? Then the thought occurred to me: I was buried in an avalanche, high up in the Alps. So, it wouldn’t be dehydration. I had only to stick out my tongue to access an endless amount of snowy hydration. It would be the cold that would take me. Not a pleasant way to go, I thought. But just then, I heard it. The unmistakable sound of giant paws digging frantically through the snow. I was saved! My trusty Saint Bernard, Wenny, was rescuing me.
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