Markus was cold. Really cold . The kind of cold that only sets in when you've been sitting around in a frozen forest waiting for some poor buck to take the wrong step, and well, they were taking all the right steps.
Even if he did see one it wasn't like he would be able to do anything about it at this range, his shotgun was a tough old oak, but Keith's rifle was more suited to the huge distance the valley stretched ahead.
That reminded him, where was Keith? He said that he needed to call his boss, something about him not believing that Keith was sick. Big surprise. He thought. Keith had been a terrible liar ever since they were kids. But Markus hadn't seen hide nor hair of him in nearly two hours. Even with how Keith can just talk and seemingly never stop, that's a bit long.
He took another look down the tarnished iron sights, hoping to catch a Stag sniffing the end of his barrel. Drat! he silently cursed when he wasn't graced by the sight of a ten point trophy buck. He was graced, however, by just how beautiful this forest is, pines that towered taller than the tallest buildings in the state, and snow that was so powdery and soft it was like sitting on a cloud. Well, if that cloud eventually froze your ass to the ground.
Doesn't help that the dick took my coffee. Marcus mused. Despite just how riveting the forest was around him, Markus was growing antsy and worried. Though he would never let Keith know he was worried about him, the man would never let him live it down.
Markus picked up the handheld radio sitting inside a shelf they had dug into their makeshift foxhole. Simple device that it was it had no screen, just a PTT switch and a couple knobs for volume and channel selection.
Clicking the button on the side of the handheld he spoke; "Keith can you hear me?" Mar k us waited, but received no response. Fucker probably has his radio off again. Marcus had told him how important it was for them to stay in contact but Keith didn't seem to care too greatly.
He spoke again; "Answer me dammit! Its been two hours since you left to shoot the shit with your ladyfriend!" Markus was hoping that little number would piss him off into answering, but despite how much he hated his boss it didn't seem to make him want to get on the horn.
Perhaps abandoning the hole for a quick walk would warm him up and help calm the growing concern welling up within him, getting his blood pumping always seemed to calm him down. Hell, maybe he would even come across something to shoot at.
Pocketing the handheld radio he wrote a note for Keith, not wanting him to think he was dragged off by a wild animal. Short and sweet has always been Markus' modus operandi when it comes to love notes, and maybe he would radio back when he got done with his call.
Keith, It is freezing fucking cold, and I have no coffee. I'm going to take a walk. Try not to get too excited, I'd rather not have a bullet in my ass today. -Mark
That's good enough, Markus thought as he began trudging through the deep snow. Maybe he will shoot me, it would break the monotony at least.
As he walked through the forest he took in the environment, looking at all of the interesting plants that they didn't have back home, seeing a few berry bushes and ferns that he didn't recognize, and even a huckleberry bush, something he would never have thought could grow at this low elevation.
The trees here were also of high quality, very little Ponderosa Pine, mostly cleaner burners like Red Fir, White Pine, and Tamarack. Maybe they could find a dead tree and make a good fire for more coffee once Markus returned, seeing as sitting around drinking coffee was all they had been doing anyway.
Markus thought back to life back home, despite the money struggles endemic to the Rockies he'd done pretty well for himself, he had a reliable car, a job that paid all the bills plus some, and a best friend who was always ready to hop in his truck and go out to the sticks for a hunt. Even if Keith was a massive pain in the ass sometimes, he would never let Markus down, and neither Markus him.
After walking no more than a stride further, he felt an overwhelming sensation of nausea; a brick wall of sick that forced him to his knees. His throat burned, his insides screamed to be set free. Unable to resist, he fell to his knees, expelling what little coffee he had drunk and rolling onto his back, his chest rising and falling deeply.
Markus just laid on his back for a while, ignoring the bitter cold in favor of nursing his sore throat, the burning acid causing an unending tirade of the most awful flavors Markus had tasted. It was as though all that coffee that he had drank had become varnish in his insides, the dull aching of his abdomen making him weak.
What in gods name was that? He thought to himself, rolling onto his stomach, away from the pile of refuse which had now bored a hole through the snow and onto the hard earth floor below. Felt like I'd been punched by a bear, and then it was just gone! Whatever was in that coffee must've found its way out.
Heaving himself onto his knees propping himself up with his boomstick Markus noticed something, everything looked different. trees were out of place, bushes were a bit less green, and the snow was more packed than he remembered.
Must be a fever or something, he thought, raising the back of his hand to his head, everything looks a bit… off. Despite his best efforts to check he couldn't feel any heat coming off his forehead. Must've been some really old coffee to get me this bad.
I should go back to camp, He said to himself, don't want to be wandering around the forest sick and confused. But when he looked back the way he came it was now just a big patch of spiked bushes. This only served to confuse him further, as he was sure he had just come from there.
Getting back onto his feet he turned to more closely inspect the bushes that blocked his path of travel, perhaps they had just fallen after his strange sickness, but no dice, it was bushes almost as far as he could see and a towering cliffside beyond that.
"What in the hell…" Marcus said to himself, completely baffled by what had happened. He decided to not puzzle himself further by thinking too hard about it and just trying to find his way back to camp. Walking deeper into the forest away from where he had come didn't seem like the greatest idea but the thick brambles didn't give him much choice.
As he put one foot in front of the other in a slow march he gripped his shotgun closer to his chest, his own confusion and the sudden change of scenery was putting him on edge.
Looking around, he took a little better stock of the changes that had occurred. The pines were still here, but they all appeared to have lost many of their needles or hadn't had many to begin with. They also all appeared to be wintering Tamaracks, at least he assumed so. Tamaracks are the only trees he'd known to change color in the winter, but he'd never seen one turn red before…
Not to mention the hellish blue fog, he could barely see more than a few yards around him. The obscured sightlines only adding to the unease that the forest was causing. A more fearful man would have panicked by now, but Markus was keeping his cool.
After a few minutes of this slow careful trek he noticed something odd, there was a small glint in the snow ahead, different than the glimmering of the soft snow around it. When approaching, what it was became clear, it was some type of longsword, straight down the entire blade and curved sharply at the top, he scraped the blade down his arm to test the sharpness, the razor sharp edge shaving off some of his arm hair.
Before Markus had time to dwell on this strange lost item any longer, he was interrupted by what had sounded like a woman screaming some ways down the way he was headed.
"Shit…" he spoke aloud, That better not be what I think it is. Breaking out into a dead run for the direction he had heard the sound, the sharp weapon he had left behind making him think the worst kind of thoughts.
It could be a Cougar, but finding a well polished sword just lying around tells me its not. He thought, still sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him. If it is, I have a tag for a cougar at least.
Charging his way through a heavy bush line he broke out into what could only be described as devastation. Bodies strewn about everywhere, swords embedded into some, entrails spilled from others.
"Oh my god…" Markus whispered under his breath, barely being able to stop himself from dry heaving. There had to have been at least 40 corpses laying in this clearing, the pooled blood still wet and fresh beneath his boots.
He heard a gruff voice ahead speak, but the meaning of whatever language it was speaking was completely lost on him.
Another voice spoke, this one sounding much less comfortable and just more timid, Markus noted that it was the same gibberish that the larger man had spoken with.
Markus turned to look at the speakers and saw something that pissed him off right quick: Two large men in bulky leather armor suits standing over a battered women sitting against a tree, The larger of the two holding his axe above his head ready to bring it down upon the woman.
Now Markus wasn't usually one to involve himself in other peoples business, but his grandfather taught him that you never leave someone who can't defend themselves in danger, and this sure looked like an unconscious woman about to die.
Markus charged past the corpses of the battlefield, determined to reach the woman in danger, his shotgun gripped tightly in his hands. Despite his best efforts to ignore the bodies and just run for the living he still looked despite himself.
A dead man with a sword run into his chest, clutching the blade as though he was still fighting to get it out. A female warrior with her skull smashed, brain matter spread onto the snow and her sword still clutched in her hands. The most shocking to him was a man pinned half standing to a tree by a spear through his neck, blood dripping down the shaft of the weapon
The one constant between all of these dead soldiers was their garments; they were all wearing the same uniform, a decorative sea foam green dragon print tunic with some leather upper body armor. Very few of the bodies lying around were wearing the same uniform as the large men on the hill, large blue coats with haphazardly applied leather strips. There were a few, but no amount compared to the bodies of what looked to be their opponents.
"Hey!" Markus yelled, reaching a distance between himself and the men he was comfortable with. "Drop your weapons!" He hadn't really thought about what to say, but he had heard this line in cop movies and it was probably better than anything he could think of on the spot.
Neither of the men dropped their weapons, but his warning had made the bigger man halt his execution strike. Both of the men turned to Markus, one looking in a terrified start, the other with a look of irritation.
The smaller and more startled of the men spoke first, watching Markus with a careful eye, axe held tightly to his chest. Markus assumed he was referring to him.
Speaking in a much more certain tone, the larger one responded in a way that sounded dismissive. He had clearly ignored the warning of the gunman, returning to look towards the unconscious wounded woman, axe now raised over his head.
Markus raised his shotgun and racked the slide hearing the dull plastic thud and metallic clicks of a shell being slid into battery, preparing himself for what he might have to do. Hearing this, the smaller man cocked his head in confusion, but still ignored the warning.
"Put the axe down dammit!" he screamed, the complete lack of a real response by the two men beginning to enrage him. "Don't make me do this!" he continued, but the men still didn't react.
"Don't make me do this… please." He said, loud enough for them to hear, but much quieter than his previous warnings. The smaller man continued to stare seeming even more concerned by the sudden finality in Markus' voice. The larger still focused on his original target, unphased by Markus' change in tone.
A skilled hunter has many instincts ingrained within him, whether by intuition or by training. He instinctively knows to point his weapon in a safe direction when not in use, to never shoot to wound, to always treat his kills with respect and care, to always be sure of what his target is and what's beyond it.
The instinct to never point his weapon at something he isn't ready to destroy.
Was Markus ready to destroy the man? To end a human life?
The man started his downswing, and Markus instincts made the choice for him.