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Four days and four nights.

There is no mercy in the mountains. There is no room for weakness, no margin for mistakes. You hesitate for a moment, you close your eyes at the wrong time, you miss a flash of movement at the corner of your eye, you die. The mountains are hungry, and they are patient, and if you give them a chance they will take it.

So he kept moving. Kept fighting. Kept staggering and struggling his way through the barren landscape, soaked and shivering and starving, because there was no rest here. If he tried to sleep here, he would never wake up. He would die in these mountains, nameless, nameless and alone and so very, very cold...

They gave him his name when he came home. They praised his endurance and willpower. But he left the mountains soon after, and he never slept right again.