Davey Williams || Avalanche

Snow billows about him as he shreds through the fresh powder. He's almost effortless as he weaves between the tree line. He's always loved snowboarding — the way the rest of the world seemed to fall away, leaving just him, the mountain, and the snow. It was like drumming in that way. He didn't need to think he acted on instinct and skill, getting lost in the rhythm of the act.

Vic might claim the best skiing was in Canada, but Davey had always believed it was in Hokkaido. The dry powder was deep and plentiful, and there was nothing like sinking into a hot spring after a full day on the slopes.

It might be an unconventional holiday, but, unlike the others, Davey had never had that much of an attachment to Ohio. With his parents on their dream cruise around the world, he was going to seize his precious time off to relax — alone.

Which meant Christmas for Davey was the slopes, a hot spring, and his limited-edition Lord of the Rings box set, primed for a re-read. He'd been up since before dawn, wanting to get several runs in before it got crowded. Tree runs were tricky enough on their own but hell, when there were dozens of other snowboarders out on the slope at the same time.

There's bliss in this — in being hidden behind the custom helmet Mikey had painted for him last Christmas, in the world not recognizing him. He'd forgotten how much he savored that level of privacy and how lonely it could be when everyone recognized you. But here? On the mountain? He wasn't Davey Williams, Ashes Drummer.

He was just another guy, shredding fresh powder and occasionally eating shit.

Davey's just tipped down, starting another run when a loud whumping sound drowns out the whoosh of his board on the snow. Shit. He glances over his shoulder to confirm, his stomach dropping at the sight. It's not directly behind him, but it's too close for comfort. Snow had broken off from the mountain and was crashing down the slope —

An avalanche.

Thankfully, it's not very big — it was still early in the season, which meant large amounts of snow hadn't yet accumulated. But even a small avalanche was dangerous.

"Fuck" Davey swears as he immediately leans left, changing his direct course down. He needed to get away from the fast-moving snow if he wanted to have any chance of not getting buried. It's a fool's errand, trying to outrun such a mammoth natural phenomenon like this, but if he could just outrun it a little longer, he should be okay.

From his jacket, he fumbles for his emergency transceiver and activates the small device as he dodges a large boulder. At least if he does end up buried, his signal will be traceable by the rescue team. But Davey doesn't plan on dying on a Japanese mountainside — Kellin would never let him hear the end of it.

However, not even Davey in all his skill can outrun the rushing snow, and he finds himself lifted and tossed backward as the snow catches up to him. It's almost like the time Zack tried to teach him how to surf, only instead of crashing into a wave, he hits the soft snow, slightly sinking as it carries him down the mountainside.

He doesn't exactly know how far the snow has carried him — or how long he was knocked out when he finally comes to. Davey finds himself half buried in snow, his board and one of his gloves missing. Aside from the ache in his body from being tossed around like a rag doll, he seemed to be in one piece.

"I'm never going to complain about helping with load out again," he groans, dropping his head back against the snow with a thud.

It takes him the better part of an hour to dig his legs out of the snow and free himself. He isn't sure where he is, but at least he was alive. The real question was — did anyone else get caught up in the avalanche as he had? He'd been on one of the more difficult routes and hadn't seen a soul all morning, but the holidays always meant more people on the slopes.

From the top of a large boulder, Davey scans the immediate area, looking out for any signs of life. "よっ!" He calls out, listening for any signs of distress, but he's only met with the howling of the wind. He's about to give up and find a safe place to wait for rescue when he sees a flash of color from the snow — could that be someone's jacket?

The buff drummer takes off running through the powder, fighting through the knee-deep snow as he makes his way towards the obscured figure. "Hey! おはよう!" he calls out, breathing hard as he gets within range.

"Are you okay?"