2

Out Cold

The wind bites at the small amounts of exposed skin I have. I dressed for snow, but I expected it on the ground, not in my face. The wind is bad, but nowhere near the same level as it was before. How the hell did that happen? It came FROM the cave. It couldn't have traveled through the entrance we came through; it was too long of a tunnel with too many curves.

I wouldn't be surprised if "the gang" played some trick on me. Nice one, thanks for leaving me out cold at the bottom of a cliff you knocked me off. Don't worry about me, I'll wake up some time later and wander aimlessly until some random explorers find my frozen body.

Asses.

Slow down, anger won't help now. That screech didn't sound too close by, nothing to worry about; unless it's a giadrome. I'd better have my sword ready for the draw. I reach back expecting to grab the hilt of the only weapon I brought, but when I close my fist I feel nothing but icy wind wisp through my gloved fingers. I panic and with both hands start searching my back for it, simultaneously scanning the ground with my eyes. Neither comes up with anything. A sword like mine is so massive that I should feel it by moving my heels, and the wind is so heavy with snow and ice I can barely see five feet forward. I remember that the sword was in my hands when I fell and drop to my knees, frantically searching the ground.

I dig up about a square meter of the snow around my hand prints from my landing and let out a hard sigh of relief when I feel the stiff metal hilt of my sword. I push the snow off of the blade and use what strength I have to lift it from the ground. I get it out of the snow and hold it close to my eye for a quick once over. The blade is intact, no bends or dents, and no rust or corrosion. Thank the gods. That means I haven't been in a coma, a long one anyway.

I stand and hold it parallel to myself, fighting the harsh wind that pushes against the broad blade, and try to twist the hilt. It sticks. Chunks of ice or dirt must be caught in the extending mechanism.

Everyone warned me about this. 'Don't use anything with an extender, they're all hunks of junk.' I've even had my grandma tell me that once, and now, as I stand in a blizzard, in the wilderness with a giadrome on my tail, all I can hear is her old, crabby voice telling me that over and over again.

I grip tighter and try again harder than before.

"Come on you…" trails out of my mouth and into my face guard in frustration.

I feel a click then a snap and the handles extend outward from the blade. I take in a breath and smile. I twist the hilt and shorten the handles before mounting the sword on my back and begin trekking through the deep snow. I don't know where I'm going, but with no shelter and the possibility of a giadrome in the area, anywhere is better than where I am now.

I walk for nearly an hour, staying close to the cliff wall, using it as a guide through the storm. It just doesn't let up. It doesn't seem possible. I've heard of storms, legendary storms, that didn't last this long. I don't even remember seeing a sign of danger in the sky before that first blast from the cave.

I keep my hands on the wall, feeling my way along. As I go along, I start to realize that the face is starting to slope anyway from me. That's great! If the path I'm on continues with it, I might find a spot with a low enough incline to climb. I think for a second as I shuffle along whether it's a good idea to keep heading upward in a storm like this. I take a step and feel the ground rumble under my foot, and fall out from under me. I bound back, heels and back to the wall in shock, and recognize that going down is far worse than up.

I also realize that if the ground is so loose here that one footstep could break the shelf, I'm going to have to turn back. I mutter and curse under my breath as the wind picks up and blows through the visor holes in my face guard.

I don't even make it back a few meters before I hear it. I hear it lightly, almost totally covered by the snow and wind, but I hear it.

I hear the rasp of a giaprey, dead ahead of me.

I don't know what to do! I shuffle back and forth, trying to decide which way to go, both leading to certain death. I snap myself out of the panic and hold my place against the wall. I draw my great sword and take position, one foot nearly off the edge. I hear it screech. It's coming closer. I can't see it at first, but parts start fading into view. One by one, its blue markings become more and more visible, along with the crest and yellow beak-like muzzle. It doesn't notice me at first, too busy watching its own path. Looks like I'm not the only one lost. It looks lean, hungry. It must have run out of food in its home and went out looking for more with no such luck. Now it's here on the edge of a cliff like me. I wonder if it screwed up like I did. I wonder if it had 'friends' like I did.

It sees me, tilting its head in surprise, and then scratching its claws in delight. I brace myself and it leans back on its hind legs for a leap. I haul my sword back for one power slash and it pounces. I swing at it, hitting home in the head, just to the side of the crest. I can feel the cracks and breaks as the heft of the sword implodes the creature's skull.

It's a one hit kill and I'm happy as hell.

But I'm brought back to reality when I realize that it hit me too, with a long talon going through my left abdomen. I yell in pain, so loud I can hear it and the echo through the continuing storm. I pull the sword out with a slush and strap it to my back. With both hands I grip the claw imbedded in my flesh and grit my teeth as I pull it out.

Maybe that was not a good idea.

I drop the monster toward the edge as my vision blurs and I start to wobble. I fall to my knees, taking in the sight of the first real monster I hunted. I smile and cough, "... What now, you stupid gia?" and spit on it.

I can see the red of my saliva stain the white scales through the whirling snow.

As if answering, me it slides off the cliff hind first, with the last thing I see being the back of its hand, middle talon extended.

"… Right…" I huff in response, falling face first into the snow.

I feel the ground rumble beneath me, and everything gets scary. Things start to pass through my head; scary things, like the thought that I am actually dying, here, now, without accomplishing anything in my life. I feel my gut wrench around the wound and I want to cry. I make resolve and try to push myself up, but as my hands push from the ground beneath me, the solid ground fades and I go nowhere.

The ground turns to rubble and I feel everything release. My eyes stay closed the whole time. I feel free, weightless. I feel lightened, I feel careless, I let go. I don't care about the new wind hurling at me, I don't care about the fact the fact that I'm spinning, I don't care about the roar and crashes of the rocks that crumble all around me, and I don't even care that I'm falling.

All of it just disappears as I wander out of reality and into the darkness of sleep.