The days passed by in a blur of white flurries and frosty winds. Half a fortnight had gone by, when the life of one remaining companion was lost to the mountain; an avalanche. I had managed to find shelter beneath an outcropping of rock, and was joined by one of the soldiers. The other was caught in the onslaught of snow and carried down the mountain.

Three days after the avalanche, we reached the base of what I had come to believe was my destination. I would soon learn that, in reality, it was more of a starting point than a destination. I turned to my companion. He was blue in the face, and I assumed that I appeared to be in similar condition.

'This is where our fellowship ends.' I told him, bluntly.

He shook his head. 'No, this is where it begins.' He said, smiling, as though he knew what was coming, but did not fear it.

At the time, I did not understand. 'You don't see it - either you are going to return to your city, or you will forever rot in this snow-covered graveyard.'

Again, he shook his head. 'No, it is you who do not see. I cannot return without you, for my dishonour would be my end. I swore to protect you. To stay by your side through all the dangers of this wild terrain. Should that mean my death, then so be it.'

I raised my hands to his throat and grasped his neck firmly between them. He did not resist, he simply stood there. I often wonder if it would have been easier for me if he had fought... if he had won, but he didn't. He stood there and smiled kindly (or was it condecendingly?) down at me as I choked the life from his body. It seemed to take forever, and I have since learned of many more proficient ways of killing. The winds pelted my back, as though they were fighting for the man who refused to fight for himself. At last, his eyes began to dialate and his gaze became fixed - on myself, much to my dismay. He looked down at me and I knew that that image would stay with me for the rest of my life.

Releasing my grasp, I let his body fall to the icy earth. Dark bruises lined his neck from where my fingers had dug into it. His eyes suddenly seemed to stare out at the world, wildly searching for a final, peaceful sight, but unable to see anything at all. I stood over his body for a long time, until the sun had set, leaving the moon to light his pale, frostbitten face. And still I stood there, until the sun rose once more into the sky and I was able to tear my gaze away from him and begin once more my trek to see the strange man of the mountain.

Perhaps the worst part of it all was that nobody need ever know I had done it. The mountain could just has easily taken his life, and the chances of his body being found...

The guilt has been mine alone to this very day, and though I have killed many others since then, nothing compares to the first.

I regret not knowing the name of that last soldier, but in my arrogant youth, I had not bothered with the names of servants. That one, however, was special. I believe I knew it, even then, that his words would proove true; I would carry him with me wherever I went. No matter how far I ran, his face would always linger in my mind. For the link formed between us in his last moments was a stronger bond than any other connection I would have with another being. History has prooved it to be stronger, even, than the bond I share with my fellow wraiths, trapped as we are together in this eternal hell.