**Chapter 1: A Painful Crash on the Slopes**

The crisp mountain air was filled with Lando Norris's pained groans as he lay on the snow-covered slope, his leg twisted at an awkward angle. The sound of his own labored breathing and the gentle rustling of the trees in the wind were the only responses to his cries. Carlos Sainz, his teammate and friend, quickly rushed to his side, clutching his hand in a reassuring grip. "Hey, mate, hang in there! You've had worse crashes, remember that time you overcooked it in Monaco?" Carlos joked, trying to distract Lando from the searing pain. Lando's face contorted, and he winced, but a faint chuckle escaped his lips. "That was nothing...this feels like I've been hit by a truck." He gritted his teeth as a wave of agony washed over him. Alex Albon and Max Verstappen, also part of the F1 fraternity, arrived at the scene, their faces etched with concern. Alex gently pulled up Lando's shirt, revealing a nasty gash on his side, with blood seeping into the snow. "Whoa, that's not good," Alex muttered, his eyes scanning the injury. Max, on the other side of Lando, helped Alex assess the damage. "We need to get him to a hospital, ASAP." Just then, Carlos pulled out his phone to call for help. "Ski patrol, please respond. We have a medical emergency on the mountain." A few minutes later, Carlos ended the call, looking worried. "They're running a bit behind schedule. They'll be here in about an hour." Lando's eyes widened in alarm. "An hour? You mean I'm going to be stuck here, like this, for an hour?" As the minutes ticked by, Carlos continued to regale Lando with jokes and anecdotes, trying to keep his friend's spirits up. Lando laughed, despite the pain, but his face still contorted in agony every now and then. Alex and Max exchanged a concerned glance, then turned their attention back to Lando. As they worked to assess the extent of his injuries, Carlos started teasing him, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, Lando, I heard you're not as tough as I thought. You're crying like a girl," Carlos said with a grin. Lando shot back, his voice weak but still playful, "At least I don't have a mullet like you, Carlos. Business in the front, party in the back." Alex chuckled and chimed in, "Hey, Carlos's hair is not that bad." Max joined in, "Yeah, it's almost as bad as Lando's skiing." The banter continued, with Lando firing back jokes, despite his injuries. The group's camaraderie and teasing helped to distract Lando from the pain, but it was clear that he needed medical attention soon. As they continued to joke around, 40 minutes had passed since they called for help. The ski patrol was still nowhere to be seen. Lando's discomfort grew, and his jokes began to lose their luster. "Guys, seriously, can we get some help here?" Lando asked, his voice tinged with worry. The group fell silent, scanning the horizon for any sign of the ski patrol. The only response was the gentle rustling of the trees and the distant hum of a snowcat making its way up the mountain...but it was still far away. As they waited, Carlos started to tease Lando again. "Hey, Lando, I heard if you don't get to the hospital soon, your leg will turn into a popsicle." Lando groaned, laughing. "You're a terrible friend, Carlos." The group's laughter and jokes continued, but it was clear that they were all getting anxious. Where was the ski patrol? And how much longer would Lando have to endure the pain?