Snows bore down hard and the wind picked up its howl. Cloak tight around him, Cairan trudged along following the quickly disappearing tracks. When they at last vanished, Cairan realized only then the despair of his situation. He had no tracks to follow forward, but turning he noticed his own quickly vanishing. Only a few steps away, they had faded into the white sheets of snow. Cairan knew he would not find his way back. He also knew it would take nothing for him to become disoriented trying to find his way back as the tracks he had followed had zigged and zagged in odd ways rather than a linear trail. Any attempt at walking back, especially in the blinding snow, could easily lead him right off the mountain side.
“Cernunnos’ left horn!” Cairan shook his head. Snow fell from it, though he took no notice. “And the right one! Where is Brenden when I need him? And now I am talking to myself! Great!”
Cairan trudge forward through the mounting snow. It was half way up his shins when he heard the howl. A voice he knew well cried out to the god Dagda and a second howl arose. This one clearly sounded like a cry of pain. But it was not a human voice making it.
Cairan rushed toward the howls and cries. His calves burned as he pushed through the thick blanket of white. They felt as if they would snap by the time he arrived.
Through the thick curtain of snow, Cairan did not see the corpse he tripped over. It blended with the snow, save the red blood coating it’s thick fur, and that was quickly being covered by the white storm. Brenden huffed, puffs of mist forming from his quick breaths, bloodied sword in his right hand. Four long gashes ripped through his shirt. Cairan panicked at the blood underneath.
“They aren’t deep,” Brenden said, seeing his companion’s worried face. Blood was still seeping through the woolen fabric.
When he finally saw the creature, Cairan was astounded. The creature was roughly seven foot tall. A leathery looking face held a wide-eyed expression. The open jaw held a blue tongue and several small flat teeth. Cairan reached out and pushed the eyelids closed over the magenta eyes.
Brenden picked it up with only moderate strain on his corded muscles and threw it over his shoulders like so many deer he had hunted. His knack for direction was so impeccable that he led the way back, even in the dense snowstorm, never once losing the way.
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