It was snowing again, the following morning.
They went together to check the snares, but nothing else had been caught.
"If the tribesmen had found nothing, then perhaps this area is hunted out, we were just fortunate yesterday," Alexander said, pulling up the final empty snare.
Hephaistion pulled his cloak around himself. "They have goats, chickens, geese and cattle in the villages. That's how they keep themselves fed during a winter like this. We should have had the beans, for when the hunting was sparse…" He let his words trail off, Alexander knew it, there was no need to say it.
Alexander turned and headed back to their camp. "We'll go on and try somewhere else. We should be close to the lake, the one Stegran talked of. If we head east then, things might improve. We can try a village."
Before they left they washed and shaved, changing their clothing, making out that their situation was not so bad. They still had one rabbit left after all.
They headed on to the plain by mid-morning, heading north once again, guided by the pale sun in the sky. The fates seemed to be against them though, when the wind picked up and it began to snow faster, blocking out the sun and making their visibility poor.
Their horses tried to turn their backs to the wind, as they rode on, trying to find a place to shelter, only the sky got darker and they could not see far enough. They could have ridden past a perfect shelter and not have known it.
Alexander looked over to Hephaistion, seeing he was almost buried in the furs, turned white by the snow. He had pulled down the sleeves of his chiton to warm his hands as they held the reins. Alexander pulled his own furs around his body. They could be anywhere, but they had to keep going and hope to find somewhere they could stop until the weather improved.
They began to go uphill, not knowing where they were heading. Alexander said a silent prayer to Apollo to help them, and he answered, sending a shaft of sunlight to fall against a rock wall.
Hephaistion had seen it too, and they turned their horses towards it, struggling against the deep drifts to reach it. There was a piece of rock which had fallen away, the hole left in the rock did not quite form a cave, but there was room for the horses as well, and the fallen rock gave a little shelter.
Dismounting, they encouraged the horses to stand close to the rock. They had no firewood, there was nothing around them that they could use, nothing that they could see, buried in the snow.
Alexander held the horses, while Hephaistion unloaded them. All he could do was bring their furs to Alexander and then huddle next to him, taking the reins of his mare. Bucephalus stomped his foot, impatient to be fed.
"Blame your former companion," Alexander advised Bucephalus. "For taking all of the fodder and scattering the beans."
A gust of wind entered the shallow cave, bringing snow with it.
Hephaistion stood up, and picked up the javelin. He moved to the far end of their shelter, looking for somewhere he could wedge the javelin, trying it at waist height, which would be ideal. His plan worked, and he turned and grinned at Alexander, pulling on the wooden shaft to test how secure it would be.
Alexander stood up and brought the horses over to it, tying them. It freed them to find their own comfort, though Alexander removed his own cloak and put it over Bucephalus' back as he was more exposed to the elements, while Hephaistion's mare could shelter by the wall.
Hephaistion had taken the furs to the other end of their shelter, laying them out , and so, with a final look at the rabbit they should have been having for supper, Alexander went to lie alongside Hephaistion.
"If I though they would burn long enough, I would sacrifice my clothing to cook that rabbit," he said.
"All of your clothing?" questioned Hephaistion, grinning and reaching out for Alexander, putting his hands under the chiton to touch bare flesh.
Alexander jumped. "Your hands are cold, Hephaistion."
"I know, I'm trying to warm them," came the reply.
Alexander pulled Hephaistion close to him, wanting the comfort of touch but feeling too cold to take anything more. "My uncle said the land was wild, but he did not say that we would have this much trouble getting by. I'm sorry for bringing you here."
"I'm not sorry," Hephaistion replied, kissing Alexander's cheek and then settling his head against Alexander's shoulder. "Your father must know what he was forcing you to do. He's a wily old fox, hoping that by giving you no choice but to head out in to Illyria, in the depths of winter, you would break your resolve, and return to Pella, cold and hungry, begging his forgiveness. If you did, then you would not be my Alexander. I would rather die here with you, than see you have to apologise to Attalus."
Alexander held Hephaistion tightly. "I could not do this alone," he said.
"I'll stay by your side," pledged Hephaistion, then lifted up his head and grinned at Alexander. "It's not as if I could find my way back to Pella now, anyway. Do have any idea of where we are?"
"Maybe. I'll know better when the snow stops," Alexander grinned back.
"We could have ridden right by that lake," Hephaistion said. He pulled himself up from the covers.
"Where are you going?" Alexander asked.
"Just the cold and the call of nature," replied Hephaistion. "And who knows, there could be a forest just around the corner and the Gods be damned if there's the means to have a fire and eat just out of sight." Alexander went to go with him, but Hephaistion put his hand up signalling for him to stay. "Keep the furs warm," he said, pulling his cloak around him, before disappearing in to the snow.
00XX00
Hephaistion returned a short while after he had left, taking off his cloak and laying it on top of the furs, before lying down next to Alexander. There was nothing to be found, they were in for a long, cold, hungry night.
They spent time quoting The Illiad. In his haste to leave Pella, with the uncertainty of their future, Alexander had asked Ptolemy to find his copy and to keep it safe. He missed the comfort he found in the words, and so, listening to Hephaistion recite the words, he once again felt like Achilles, lying with his Patroclus.
He lay on his back, twisting a strand of Hephaistion's hair around his finger, while Hephaistion lay with his head against his chest, talking of Gods and battle, honour and bravery. When they were at Mieza, they would set themselves passages to learn, and lie at night, like this, reciting the words.
They could have been at Mieza now. Alexander smiled. Aristotle never let on that he knew Hephaistion shared his bed. Although Hephaistion said that the philosopher had seen him leaving his rooms early one morning; that he had just stood and smiled, with a look in his eye, that said he knew it would happen one day.
Hephaistion had taken Aristotle's words to heart; he still wrote to the man. Sometimes it was as if, all Aristotle's wisdom was wrapped up in the beauty and understanding that was Hephaistion.
"Damn the cold to Hades," Alexander murmured, finding Hephaistion's lips, needing more than just the comfort of touch.