To Kill A Mockingbird Creative Writing

I zigzag around the forest edge, catching a final glimpse of the sunset over the mountain before racing into the shadows. Freezing air whistles by, but there’s too much warmth within me to be cold today.
I hear a familiar laugh and swerve out of the way to see Emma glide by me. She flies past gracefully, a hummingbird among the hibernating woodlands. She laughs again as I dance around trees, leaving a pattern of curves behind me. With Emma by my side and skis on my feet, there is nowhere I would rather be.
We zip through three more runs before the sun dips down below the mountain, cowering behind its colossal form. “Just once more?” Emma asks, grinning. Her words mirror my thoughts.
It can be dangerous to ski after sunset, but she knows
The slight tremor under my feet is enough to abandon my few doubts. It’s an avalanche. The snow has transformed from a soft creature to a raging beast, intent on tearing us apart.
Adrenaline powers my body, but fear sabotages my actions. I look up as Emma calls out and see her face contort in terror as she speeds towards me. Her panic only aggravates my own fear.
The earth trembles and shakes but not nearly as much as I do. Emma stops beside me and shouts words I can’t decipher. I glance up just in time to see the avalanche looming before us. I barely have time to marvel at the creature, a whirlwind of ice and snow, before it has devoured me and I am swept away.

White sheets and florescent lights greet me as I wake up. My mother’s eyes look like waning twin moons underlined with dark shadows. I look around and see plain white walls, a metal table, and a sink. The room has an industrial feel to it and the strong scent of disinfectant wafts under my nose.
My mother’s voice is so faint, I can hardly hear.
“Emma?” I ask, afraid of what she might say.
She looks surprised. “What about her?”
“She’s . . . okay? She . . . she’s not—”
“What? Of course she’s okay! She’s fine. I. . .