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exciting. As she skied off the lift at the top and stopped to adjust her goggles and gloves, she found she was humming to herself. She hadn’t done that for a very long time. It felt good, really good. She stood there for a few moments, staring out across the snow-covered mountains, and she felt the familiar stinging in her eyes, but this time, she didn’t cry and she didn’t stop humming. She ran a gloved hand across her face, pulled her goggles into place, and set off.
    An hour later, after a few fast downhill runs, she had warmed up and decided to ski down a particularly difficult black run; a steep mogul field of dips and bumps, bordered on both sides by thick forest. It was tough, technical skiing and she was concentrating hard. As she reached the left-hand side of the piste, within touching distance of the thick canopy of conifers, she threw herself into a sharp turn back in the opposite direction, her knees flexing hard under the compression. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another skier flash past, bouncing over the bumps, hopelessly out of control. At the same time, a movement further down the slope caused her to jam in the edges of her skis and stop dead, her hand over her mouth in silent horror.
    A big black dog came running out of the trees, right in the path of the other skier. The man was powerless to take evasive action and the two figures converged with an awful inevitability. She clearly heard a cry and a yelp as the skier smashed into the dog, sending both of them flying into the air. The dog landed several metres further down the slope, its body limp and lifeless like a rag doll. The man bounced, rolled, and finally ended up on his face, perilously close to the trees, one ski still attached, the other stuck upright in the soft snow at the side of the piste. As Annie looked on, he stirred, sat up and then, without making any effort to help the injured dog, pulled himself to his feet, clipped on his missing ski, and set off down the hill once more.
    Annie was appalled.
    She skied down to where the body of the dog lay motionless in the snow. She stepped out of her skis, sticking them into the snow in the form of a cross to warn any other skiers of the danger, and went over to the dog. He was a fine-looking black Labrador, but he was quite unconscious. She knelt closer and was relieved to see he was still alive; his white, steamy breath clearly visible in the frozen air. His tongue was hanging out and blood was running from his mouth into the snow. She sat down beside him, her hand resting on the dog’s head, and debated what to do. Then she spotted a silver medallion attached to his collar. On it was a phone number. She pulled out her phone and dialled the number. It was answered almost immediately.
    â€˜
Pronto.
’ It was an old man’s voice. He was speaking Italian, so she spoke to him in the same language.
    â€˜Hello, I’m afraid there’s been an accident.’ Annie found she was panting and had to stop for breath before being able to carry on and give the man the story of what had happened. Luckily, both he and she were very familiar with the layout of the ski runs and he understood immediately when she described where the accident had happened.
    â€˜Thank you very much for your kindness. Somebody’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you wait?’
    â€˜Of course.’ Just at that moment, she saw a movement. The dog’s eyes fluttered, and then opened. She was quick to relay the good news. ‘He’s just opened his eyes. I think he’s going to be all right.’
    â€˜That’s marvellous.’ She couldn’t miss the relief in the man’s voice. ‘His name’s Leo, by the way. Ten minutes.’ He rang off.
    Annie pushed her phone back into her pocket and bent down closer to Leo the dog. His eyes were rolling and he was panting for breath, but he was conscious. She reached out and cradled his big furry head in one arm,