I remember the moment the wing clipped the mountain. A scream, then silence. Snow filled the cabin like a tomb. When I opened my eyes, bodies were strewn like broken dolls. I crawled out, bleeding, freezing, and saw the truth—we were alone.\n\nNow, ten days in, the dead lie beneath the snow. We’ve eaten nothing but sugar packets and wine from the wreckage. My ribs press against my skin. My fingers are black at the tips.\n\nRoberto holds up a piece of frozen flesh. 'They’re gone,' he says. 'This is all that’s left of them. If we don’t eat, we die too.'\n\nNo one speaks. We all know what this means.\n\nDo we pray first? Do we refuse? Or do we take the first bite?