Chapter 4

Our licensed tour followed a strict, scientifically paced schedule to deal with the altitude, so we moved slowly.

On the first day, the convoy stopped at Ridgeford so everyone could rest and adjust to the elevation. On the second day, we reached Ember Crossing, and the scenery along the way gradually shifted into highland terrain.

The altitude increased in careful stages to minimize the risk of altitude sickness.

The medics on our team ran full blood oxygen and heart rate checks on everyone twice a day, morning and evening. Two of the girls developed mild dizziness, and their lips started turning purple.

The medics brought over medical-grade oxygen tanks right away and walked them through slow, steady breathing. Within a few minutes, both of them had returned to normal.

At every stop along the route, the guides set aside plenty of time for sightseeing. The girls took countless photos along the scenic photography trail at Ember Crossing.

At the Sky Terrace in Carrow Flats, everyone got out of the vehicles to take pictures and soak it in. At the foot of the Three Peaks in Dawnridge Valley, the girls were so thrilled they could barely stand still, snapping photos of each other nonstop.

Every night, we checked into climate-controlled hotels with built-in oxygen systems. The rooms had full oxygen saturation, so there was no risk of altitude sickness flaring up overnight.

Every meal featured local highland cuisine, with as much highland beef stew as anyone could eat, plus local free-range chicken soup, highland grain flatbread, and fresh plateau vegetables on the side.

The girls sat around the dinner table, one compliment rolling into the next.

"Three thousand dollars was worth every single cent. We haven't had to worry about a thing this whole trip."

"It's safe, it's comfortable, and it's a thousand times better than stumbling around on some backpacking trip."

"Thank God, we didn't follow them on that disaster. We'd be miserable right now."

I sat off to the side listening, and all I did was smile faintly.

Meanwhile, Phoebe's group had an exceptionally smooth first three days. The freight trucks drove steadily the whole way, and midway through the route they passed a herder settlement.

The group showed up uninvited and asked to stay the night, and the herders were kind enough to take them in. They ate freshly roasted lamb for free and drank spiced herder's tea straight from the pot.

Phoebe seized every opportunity, posting over a dozen short clips and updates to her social media every single day. Her captions were loud and boastful: [Two hundred dollars and we're on our way to Alvor. You can't put a price on youth.]

She made a point of tagging my family's travel agency account, taking a not-so-subtle jab at our premium pricing.

The comments section was flooded with praise, every last one of them jumping on the bandwagon.

[Budget travel is the real way to do it. Paying for a tour package is literally just an idiot tax.]

[Young people should be brave enough to rough it. Don't let businesses squeeze you dry.]

[You're looking at the same mountains either way. No reason to spend ten times more for nothing.]

Wyatt shared her posts at the same time and openly mocked me for making a big deal out of nothing.

[The highlands aren't nearly as dangerous as people make them sound. That's just travel agencies drumming up fear to sell packages. Some people just want to make a dishonest buck, so they blow the risks way out of proportion on purpose.]

The backpacking group's sense of superiority grew with every passing day. Every single one of them was now convinced that my earlier safety warnings had been nothing but lies.

They even made plans in their group chat to take a big group photo once they reached Alvor and send it to me the second it was taken, just to rub it in my face.

The whole chat was on board. All of them were waiting to watch me eat my words.

What they did not know was that the truck drivers were only going as far as the junction. Beyond that point, the blizzards and the dead silence of the Barrens were waiting for them.