ONE

"MAN DEAN ITS COLD AS HELL UP HERE!" YELLED A RATHER irritable Stephen Lee as he continued to trudge over the intensely cold mountain path, his breath visible as a small cloud in front of his face. If he were to voice what he actually felt right now it would be that he was actually the happiest he'd been in a while as he faced the harsh wilderness with his best friend only a few feet away.

Stephen was the self-proclaimed unluckiest man on the planet, who had faced more than his fair share of hardship, which he blamed solely on one man, but it was never something he liked to talk about. He preferred to keep his feelings bottled inside where he was sure it belonged.

"Tell me again why we're heading to this town Stephen?" came the voice of the slightly less irritated Dean Harkness, best friend of the older man since birth and fellow hard luck case.

Stephen stopped and turned to see his friend, he was hardly dressed for fighting the cold, he wore a plain denim jacket and a pair of jeans, sure he had the heavy footwear needed for their hike, a large rucksack and all, but the only real item of clothing which was keeping the Scotsman warm was a slightly thick shit he wore beneath his jacket.

"Dean, weren't you listening to the old guy who tipped us off…what was his name…T…T something or other, people have been going missing up near this town for over a month now, so we're going to check it out. Consider it…an adventure"

With that he started on his way again, determined not to let the cold penetrate the shield he had spent the past few years of his life around his soul and mind. His shorter friend just sighed and continued on while shaking his head slightly, both at his friend and to help him forget about his hands and ears beginning to nip from the cold. He was more prepared than his friend, wearing a heavy brown coat and matching trouser, as well as official hiking boots and a matching rucksack to his friend.

"I remember was listening to that Trent guy perfectly and if I remember correctly he warned us not to come up here, and the rest of the hikers who if you ask me made the right choice and stayed behind…"

Stephen looked over his shoulder at his friend, a smile on his face that he hadn't had since before his life took the downward spiral, a smile that meant anything but happy tidings for all those involved.

"That's what makes it an adventure."

Dean smiled slightly back at his friend before shrugging and shaking his head at his friends all too familiar antics.

"Alright Stephen, I'm with you…but if I get killed, I'm gonna come back and haunt you"

Stephen's laugh was quiet and almost impossible to be heard but Dean heard it all too loud enough and it really did bring a smile to his face. It had been son long since he last heard his friend's genuine chuckle, every time he had heard Stephen laugh since the event had seemed forced and fake, as if he just didn't want to smile or laugh anymore, as if he just didn't want to live but continued to anyway.

He's got more going for him than he thinks, I mean he got a book published for god's sake, sure he has some debts he needs to pay and its not the most stable of jobs being a writer but hey, it could be worse.

Anyone that knew Dean would recognise this line of though as his seemingly endless supply of optimism, he had always had a strange habit of looking at the bright side of any situation and trying everything that was humanly possible to help others see it as well.

But to tell the truth its kind'a hard to look at the bright side of everything that's going on right now…I'm not sure but I don't think Stephen really knows just how much danger we could be in…this far away from civilisation with no real way to contact anyone…if something happened then…there's just no telling how long it'd take someone to find us…

He shivered from the image in his mind more than the cold that assaulted his body, the thought of being stuck out here alone, injured, either slowly bleeding or freezing to death as all he could do was hope for some random hiker to pass and spot him before it was too late.

Well…at least I'm not alone…everything should be fine as long as we don't get split up…

"What the?"

Before Stephen could even turn to see why his friend and just suddenly yelled, or what the loud rumbling sound was his view was obscured by a blinding mass of white and he was struck onto the hard rocky ground painfully by an insanely strong blast of wind.

He already knew what it was as he struggled to his feet.

Blizzard!

He braced himself against the onslaught of frozen snow and fearsome wind as he tried to see just an outline of his friend, maybe hear him, and call out to him. He opened his mouth to shout, but quickly closed it again and shielded his face with his arms as the snow assaulted him even worse.

No go…

He wasn't about to give up on his friend; he wasn't going to just let his closest friend die a lonely death in the cold. But his sense of direction was thrown off from his fall, and his head was throbbing from where it struck stone, and his ears were ringing worse than Big Ben on steroids. He knew that he probably couldn't see straight even if the blizzard wasn't obscuring everything that was more than a foot away from his face. There was no possible way he could see or hear Dean.

What's that?

There, behind him, a quiet shuffling barely audible behind the sound of the wind and the heavy ringing within his ears.

Maybe its my imagination, or maybe its Dean hurt and trying to crawl to safety, not able to shout out to me because of this damn storm…but if its not, then I could be leaving him out here…

He heard the shuffling again and it made up his mind, he tried to pull himself in its direction but a sharp pain that was now very present in his left leg halted him and dropped him to his right knee with a very loud thud as bone and flesh met unforgiving stone, he winced once but he didn't have time to assess his injuries, he could breath so he needed to find Dean, but he couldn't put weight on his leg and walk.

The rucksack!

With little more thought he let it slide from his shoulders and to the ground, if he got lost now he had no supplies or medical equipment, but if Dean still had his then they could handle it. He forced himself back to his feet and slowly began to limp in the direction of the sound, which was made slightly easier by the blizzard pushing him from behind.

That was until he meant with the ground again, and he could taste blood in his mouth as his jaw bounced off of a decidedly large rock, he rolled onto his back and held it for a while before clenching it shut and rolling back to his stomach and then standing again. The coppery taste of his own blood now helping to fuel him on.

I'm coming Dean…