Source A: After the crack

An original contemporary non-fiction-style practice text, written for this question.

I had walked beneath that beech every morning for three weeks. Its trunk stood beyond the temporary shelter where we left our survey bags. I knew the pale scar on one branch, the root which lifted the track and the place where the canopy opened enough for a patch of light. On Tuesday, I stopped there to copy a number from a marker into my book.

The crack sounded like a thick board splitting close to my ear. I looked at the book first, as though something in my hand had made it. Then the canopy moved in a way I had never seen: not leaves moving separately in wind, but a whole section of sky being carried sideways. I heard branches strike other branches. Something heavy hit the track, and the ground answered through the soles of my boots.

For several seconds I remained crouched behind the shelter’s low wall. Dust settled on the open page. A beetle crossed the stone beside my hand with astonishing purpose. I could not connect its small, complete journey with the enormous unfinished event beyond the wall. I had no pain anywhere. I checked that fact repeatedly, moving my fingers, then becoming afraid that moving anything might attract another fall.

The tree lay across the route back to the vehicle. My bag was beyond it. Inside the bag were keys, lunch and the form recording the morning’s work. I began calculating how I might reach it before remembering that collecting a sandwich was not the problem which needed solving. The fallen trunk had changed what could be assumed about the area. My ordinary plan had ended, even though its objects remained in their usual places.

I called my colleague on the radio. She asked where I was, whether I was hurt and what I could see. I wanted to say that it had nearly killed me. That might have expressed the size of my fear, but it would not describe the position clearly. I gave her the marker number, explained the blocked track and stayed where I was while help and an assessment were arranged.

The woods became quiet again. That was not reassuring in the way it had been yesterday. Every small settling sound seemed to offer another explanation of what might happen next. I watched the dust stop moving on the page. The number I had copied was still legible, precise and irrelevant for the moment. When my colleague called again, I answered with the same location. I could give her that much certainty. The rest of the morning would have to begin from there.

Source B: From 127 Hours: Between a Rock and a Hard Place — Aron Ralston

Read Source B in the official Pearson anthology (printed pages 10–11).

Compare how the writers present their ideas and perspectives about how people respond when a familiar situation suddenly becomes threatening.

Support your answer with detailed examples from both texts, including brief quotations.