The blizzard raged on outside, it was all he could do to keep warm in the small cave.  The small fire crackled and embers floated occasionally toward the ceiling.  The meager warmth and light it provided would have to be enough, even with the flurry of snow outside; he couldn’t take any chance of being discovered.

For all the bad luck he had endured for the past two months, the last day had given him some of the best luck to date.  Without the blizzard, his pursuers would surely have caught him by now, and if the cave he now sat in had not appeared, he would be on top of a mountain, in the middle of a blizzard.

He took a small pouch from his pack and pulled out two small packages.  The first was a small piece of salted pork, wrapped in wax paper, which he greedily ate.  He had taken more than enough for the ten day hike into this remote section of the mountains, but he was now on his last few slices.  He had not planned on being followed, and frankly had no idea how he had been found.  The last four days had been spent trying to elude them, and the blizzard would help wonderfully in covering his tracks.

He put the pork away and stared at the other package.  He carefully unfolded the oiled leather and placed it on the cave floor.  It was shaped like a three quarter moon with a notch when it appeared another piece would attach to complete a full moon.  It would be roughly five inches in diameter if whole, and looked to be solid gold.  He looked, not at the fire reflected off the gold surface, but rather at the engraving on the piece itself.

The language, though not English, was easily readable to him; it was one of nearly twenty he could read.  It basically said “Return Life, Evade Death” in its simplest translation.  The words surrounded a small map, which, while small, held surprising detail.  It showed the temple he had left four days ago and it also showed his destination.  Well, he assumed it would if it was complete, but his assumptions were usually correct; except, apparently, when it came to his chances of being followed.

He folded it back into the leather and stowed in the pouch, and back into his pack.  He couldn’t afford to linger much longer and would need to be ready to go the moment the storm let up.  The wind appeared to be howling less exuberantly, and the snow would likely let up soon.  He looked to the side of the fire, and frowned a little.  He knew the risks when he came, but had hoped he would never have to use the gun that was drying.  He quickly put it back together, and replaced the four bullets he had used already.

He bundled back up, checked the fastenings on his pack and put his goggles back on.  As he picked up his gun, he took one last look at his watch.  It was midday, and with the weather, he should be able to reach the village where he began his trek by nightfall.  He would have to be careful.  Even if his pursuers had not arrived back, they surely left some of their companions behind, just in case he beat them back.  Hopefully his good fortune would hold.

With that last thought, he stowed his gun in his pocket and headed back outside.  He shuddered slightly, not from the cold, but from how much hinged on his success.

Tags: Writing Story