Sliding down the slippery slope (literally), Ellie maintained a careful, but brisk pace as she went down the previously unconquered path. There were a ton of jumps, rocks, and trees that could definitely provide for risk and thrills. Just the way the Scottish-Canadian skier wanted it. Powder was gonna fly up, despite it being actually pretty thin. It was going to foster a very fun environment and one that would actually challenge and stimulate the seasoned snowboarder's mind. 

Coming up on a little makeshift ramp, she took the jump gracefully, getting some serious air. It was enough air between her and the ground that she was able to pull off a 180 before coming back down to Earth. Feeling the powder kick up as she landed, she flipped herself around and continued down the most direct way down to the bottom of the peak. The speed was collecting the farther she went directly down the slope. The longer she did this, the more risk she had when it came to crashing. Sure, Ellie liked her risks but she also knew when she was going too far.

Her internal speedometer had determined that she was going too fast according to the patented Ellie Dorian Scale of Speed™. As a result, she diverted and started a serpentine pattern to slow down. Rerouting the momentum laterally should definitely help her slow down. As well as hitting this sweet jump coming up ahead.  Catching some air once again, Ellie lifted her snowboard up and grabbed it midair, before letting go, landing smoothly as was the typical Ellie fashion™. From the looks of things, it looked like she was about to beat Seb.

[hr]

Pigs were flying, hell had frozen over. Kimberly Emily Rossi had survived the crash the night before and was in recovery. They managed to repair everything that was threatening her life after a long, strenuous surgery. It was now a concrete scientific fact that Kimberly had the willpower of a thousand men. Of course, she wasn't completely healthy but surgeries to correct those injuries would be coming along later down the line.

Right now, she was looking like a mummy with all the splints, pulleys, and casts that were all over her body. She came in with a Glasgow Coma Score of 4, but yet there she was recovering from surgery. She wasn't breathing on her own just yet. Her lung capacity had been severely diminished, and that, along with a myriad of other things would have to be addressed on the long road of physical rehabilitation ahead of her. Additionally, there were a few other issues that were definitely going to put a wrench in the works, but those would be addressed later down the road. 

Of course, Kimberly wasn't going to wake up for a while. She was far too damaged to even reenter the realm of consciousness. For the next few days she'd have to be stuck in the hospital in the bed while her injuries healed. 

Mia still didn't have a clue as to what was happening even after all of this time later, which was the plan her aunts and uncles had for her. At some point she was going to have to find out, but not right now. She didn't deserve to see her mom like this. Speaking of Kimberly's family, news that Ross had woken up had quickly traveled to the Rossi family. After discussing a plan of action, three members of the family made their way to Ross, which was not too far away from where Kimberly was. 

Walking into the room, they had found Ross in his room sitting up on his bed as if nothing bad had happened to him. He was one tough son of a bitch. In the room right now was Maria Rossi, a Marine Corps Combat Medic, Michael Rossi, a member of Navy SEAL Team 6, and Athena Rossi, a member of NYPD's Emergency Services Unit. They had a plan that they wanted to carry out, but Ross held the key that would assist them. 

Maria, the only blonde in the room, had turned around and closed the door and blinds of the room, making sure nobody could listen in or see what they were doing. With that many people in one room, it was looking very ominous. But, nobody knew that they were all family. Whether they liked it or not (they liked it), Ross was their family. He was the husband of one of their own, and father to a member of the next generation. 

Michael, in particular, was one BIG motherfucker. 6'4", at LEAST 255 lbs. He was not someone you wanted to cross, and definitely the last person anyone wanted to cross in this room. Sitting down, he had his massive hands folded and scooted up real close to Ross. At that point, you could practically smell the testosterone coming off of him. Years and years of war hardened experience definitely had that effect on people. 

"You know why I'm here. You got a lot to tell us." He placed a hand on his shoulder, placing not too much weight on it but just enough to establish the severity and seriousness of the situation in their hands, "I want every detail."