Unseen dangers

The air is light and full of hope as they repack all of their equipment, even if their packs are significantly heavier now that they are down three horses and need to carry more themselves. Matthias and Berwald takes the lead up the slope, Tino, Vilje and Gorm leading a horse each follows them in a line and Trym makes up the back so he can keep better control of the situation and make sure nobody falls behind and get lost in the snow. The trail made by Matthias and Berwald, probably zigzags a bit more than necessary, but they do not dare to stray from it in fear they miss the road marker and it is easier to walk now that they have a ready path trampled in the snow.

They pass the first marker, then the second, where the frequency of larger rocks around them increases. Around the third marker, an outcropping of rocks create a wall on either side of them, replacing the rocks and narrowing down the possible path and marking the end of the pre-made trail by Matthias and Berwald. Their speed drops now they must wade through the snow again, but it is easier to keep walking with the constant confirmation that they are on the right path and not just wandering aimlessly with only hope as their guide.

The walls of rocks around them slowly grows taller and the rocks sharper, more menacing. Matthias realizes that they should maybe have taken that as a warning from nature's side to be a bit more careful.

Hours of walking leads them high up in the mountain, and the increasing wind. They end up reaching the cloud layer and the moisture in the air freeze on their eyelashes and hair and makes a layer of ice on their clothes. The thick, heavy snow they struggle their way through turns powdery and light, but the snow hides a layer of polished ice that they notice too late.

A sudden yell is the only warning they have before Trym slides backwards down the slope that they just painstakingly fought their way up. His arms flail wildly in search for anything to hold on to, but there is nothing around and he falls with a heavy thump and groans in pain. A few tense seconds pass where everyone stands frozen in shock and then he curses wildly, wheezing slightly for breath.

Matthias turns and is about to run down to help him up, when Trym raises a hand to stop him. "Careful," he yells as he carefully attempts to sit up on the ice, face pinched in pain. "We don't need more people falling. The rest of you stay where you are, make sure you don't slip."

"Are you okay?" Matthias asks. He carefully considers each step and slowly works his way down the slope to Trym, using a few exposed rocks as an anchor.

Trym groans, but he sits up and begins looking over himself to take inventory of potential injuries. "I think the backpack might have taken the brunt of the fall, but I'm not sure yet." He curses violently again. "Everything hurts."

Matthias joins him, kneeling in the snow. He helps Trym sit up properly and slides the pack of his shoulders. Trym hisses in pain when the strap slides over his left arm. Matthias lifts it gently and notices a large gash in the fabric on his sleeve. "We might need some bandages," Matthias mutters bleakly. "I'm sorry if this hurt." He rolls up the sleeve as gently as he can, but Trym still breathes through his teeth and curses again.

The innermost layer is stained red with blood and the skin underneath is torn up in a nasty, jagged gash that takes up half of Trym's lower arm and is bleeding freely. "There are some strips of cloth you can wrap around it in my backpack," Trym mutters weakly. "I don't think is the time or the place to stich that up. Just better wrap it tight."

Matthias grasps Trym's arm tight to hold the wound closed with one hand, lifts it gently over Trym's head to keep it elevated and uses the other to rummage around in the backpack for wrappings. Tino suddenly appears and sits down next to them, moving careful not to fall on the ice and pulls the bag out of Matthias' reach. "Just keep pressure on his arm Matthias, try to control the bleeding. I'll find the bandages."

Matthias does as commanded and moments later Tino shouts in victory when he pulls up a rolled-up ball of cloth. Trym is looking pale and as if he is on the verge of vomiting at the sight of blood dripping down into the snow, straining it red. Matthias lowers the arm and Tino quickly beings wrapping the cloth tightly around it, apologizing when Trym winces in pain.

"I feel so stupid," Trym groans when they fasten the bandages and pull the torn coat back in place over them. "I should have paid closer attention to where I was stepping."

"Well, nothing to do about it now," Tino comments. "Can you move? You didn't get hurt anywhere else?"

"Just my pride," he grunts. Help me up, I can walk just fine."

Tino and Matthias each put and arm under one of Trym's, and haul him to his feet. They brush off a layer of powdery snow and hand him the backpack. "We can move around the stuff again if you need to," Matthias offers. "At least for today."

Trym shakes his head determinedly and growls at them. "I don't need my arm to walk, and I can only blame myself. Give me the damned backpack" The rest of the group watch in apprehension as the three of them carefully step back up the slope, mindful of the black ice hidden underneath the snow.

They carefully begin moving again, their pace significantly lower as they make sure each step is set on a surface that provides some traction. There are a few more times when one of them slips, but they make it up the steepest part of the slope without any further injuries. The path then evens out to lead them over the mountain and their climb is finally over. The rock walls on either side of them rises tall now on either side of them, the surface smooth and carved out by pickaxes and hammers and smoothed over by years of harsh weather. The clouds that they spend the last few hours walking through finally begin to dissolve, but by then, darkness descends on tem and wraps the world in a grey blanket.

The group exhales in a communal sigh of relief once they make it around a small turn in the road and the mountain walls block out the howling winds. The depth of snow shrinks to only a few inches and it seems strangely quiet and calm after days of howling wind and flurrying snow. Matthias pulls down the scarf wrapped around his face and draws a long breath, relieved when it does not burn in his lungs from the cold. "It's so silent," he remarks mostly to himself, and his voice echoes lightly against the rock walls.

"Gods. If I never have to climb another mountain again it's still going to be too soon." Gorm groans. "I'm too old for this crap, my legs are burning, and my back hurts."

Trym lets his backpack fall to the ground with a loud thud and sighs heavily. "This is far enough for one day. Right now, we have shelter from the wind and the snow; I would say this is the perfect place to sleep." The rest of them follow suit and several packs hit the ground in quick succession with an assortment of clangs and thuds.

"How much firewood do we have left?" Matthias asks. The following silence is almost deafening and Matthias notices that most of them look uncomfortable with the question, avoiding his gaze and shuffling their feet. Vilje almost looks guilty. "Are we out?" he asks horrified.

"Not entirely," Tino whispers. "But, we burned through a lot of it last night when we had to get you warmed up.

"There should be enough to warm some food," Gorm interrupts brusquely. "That will have to do for tonight. Tomorrow we'll get of this damn mountain and we can chop some more. For tonight, we will just have to huddle close and just suffer through it. There is nothing to do about it unless you want to stumble through the darkness to try and make it down the mountainside tonight." Silence follows. "Good." Gorm says firmly. "Then we make camp here."

They all begin working immediately. Berwald and Gorm unpack all the gear from the horses and offer them some feed and water and they seem grateful to get some rest after long days of carrying heavy packs in harsh weather, but they toss their heads in annoyance when they find the meal unsatisfying since the supplies are running low for them too. Matthias and Vilje unpacks their tarps to build a makeshift shelter in case it will start snowing in the night. Tino stacks up what little firewood they have left on the ground and builds a small campfire next to it. "If we ration out what we have left, I think we might have enough for a small fire for maybe half the night."

Trym pats him gently on the back with his uninjured arm. "It will have to do." He clumsily unpacks the remaining meat from his pack and puts it on spit, ready for when the fire turns hot enough.

Tino looks at him worriedly. "You should be careful moving that arm, especially since we never stitched that and also we should change the bandages. If it gets infected out here, we will be hard pressed to find a skilled enough healer to fix you up."

Trym complaints but settles down, holding out his arm when Tino prods him. "It's going to be one hell of a scar," Tino muses when he carefully unwinds the bandages to replace them with clean ones. "It should really have been stitched, but it's too late now. At least the bleeding stopped for now, but you should be careful, any wrong movement and you will tear it open again." Trym grumbles unhappily in complaint and Tino wraps a new bandage around his arm.

Eventually, they finish setting up the tarps in a mostly stable shelter. They pile the backpacks up on the sides to create a wall in case the wind turns in the night, but for now it is silent and peaceful. Their fire is finally hot enough and Tino carefully balances the meat over the precious coals to cook.

The smell of sizzling meat spreads rapidly. Matthias feels his stomach growl angrily and it is loud enough that Gorm begins laughing. "I completely agree," he laughs. "It's been a long day."

They sit down around their meager little fire, warming their hands and enjoying every single bit of warmth it provides. Tino hands out pieces of meat and they greedily devour it. Even Vilje eats it without complaint. "I say we cook all the meat we have left now when we have fire," Trym suggests. We don't know how long it will take us to get a hold of more firewood and I'd rather not carry around raw meat in the bag longer than I have to."

Matthias takes off one of his mittens so he can eat, and notices the skin on the very tip of his fingers have turned black during the day. The skin around is flaking and red blistered. He sucks in a sharp breath and drops the stick of meat to the ground in shock. He touches the fingers to each other and find them hard to the touch and painful. He tears off the other mitten and finds the other fingers looking the same. "Trym," he yelps. "I thought you said my hands were going to be fine. This does not look fine!" He shrieks almost hysterically and holds up his hands to show off the blackening fingertips.

"Don't worry boy," Gorm grunts before Trym has a chance to answer. "That is nothing. It has to be way worse before you are in danger of losing your fingers." He tears of his own glove and shows off his fingers, the pinky of his hand is only half the length it should be." Trust me, I know." He smiles grimly. "That black skin will peel of eventually and you might not feel temperature properly again, but that is fine." Matthias stares in horror at his own hands. Gorm pats him on the back. "Just keep them warm best you can and you'll be fine."

He picks up the stick he dropped; the meat covered in a dusting of snow. He brushes of it and holds it over the flames to melt the snow and reheat it a little. The meat is dry and chewy, but filling and he chews slowly and catches himself staring at his fingers more than once.

Gorm fishes out a small bottle from his pack and clears his throat. "I've been saving this for the right occasion," he grunts. "I think it might be time to finish it off. Been carrying it for weeks."

Trym burst out in laughter. "Moonshine, really? As if our bags were not heavy enough before and I could have needed a drink pretty much every day since we left the others back in the forest."

"Only since then?" Matthias teases. "Them I envy you."

Trym flicks snow at Matthias with his uninjured hand. "Don't be a smartass," he snarls, but there is no real heat behind his words.

Matthias laughs.

Gorm opens the bottle, sniffs the contents, and immediately makes a face. "Should put some fire in your belly, I reckon." He takes a deep swig and hisses. "Whew, tastes like shit, just like I expected but damn it burns nicely." He offers the bottle to Berwald who is the closest. When he does not immediately accept, Gorm pushes the bottle into his hands ad makes and expectant face.

Berwald sighs and takes a swig, not even grimacing as he swallows. Gorm's mouth hangs open. "Damn boy, you could at least have a decency to pretend it's strong." Tino immediately demands the bottle and down a large swig. He tries to keep his face straight but fails. Trym and Gorm both laughs. Tino hands the bottle to Vilje who ends up wheezing and coughing much to the other's entertainment. Trym makes a grimace and finally passes to Matthias. The fumes are enough to make his eyes sting, but he takes a deep swig before the others have time to run any commentary. It burns the entire way down and settles warmly in his belly. He tries to keep a straight face, but the muscles in his eye involuntary twitches at the sharp taste and he wonders how Berwald managed to keep a straight face.

Gorm sighs when the bottle comes back to him and only a few swigs remain. He takes another shot from the botte and passes it around again for a second shot. Vilje refuses with a grimace and Gorm downs the last sip when the bottle returns to him yet again and tosses it carelessly in the snow.

A howl tears through the silence to interrupt their fun and Trym curses. "Can't the dumb beast leave us a quiet moment?" The horses whinnies in protest and toss their heads, unnerved by the sound of predators.

"Guess we keep a guard up all night:" Tino mutters unhappily and sighs.

Trym grunts in reply. "Guess so. We would have had to do it anyways to keep the fire burning, but it would have been nice not to worry about attacks in the night. This is going to be a long and cold night people, better tuck in close." Another howl sounds and more wolves join in, but the sounds are distant, and they heave a collective sigh. Gorm growls. "Sounds like they found some poor creature to hunt down. I'm just happy that is not us. I'll take the first watch"

The rest of them get ready for the night. They settle down in the tiny shelter and huddle together as close as they can get to preserve warmth. Its tight and uncomfortable, the ground cold and hard underneath them, but eventually they fall in to a slumber.

The night passes by without any further disturbances. Matthias watch is quiet except for the few howls of wolves in the distance that makes his skin break out in goose flesh and makes a shiver run down his back. He wakes up in the morning with an elbow to the face and a muttered apology. A rush of cold air serves to wake him properly when somebody tears away the blankets. "Time to get up."

The air is clear, fresh, and bitingly cold in the dim light of morning. The ashes from their small campfire are long dead and cold, making the morning a freezing experience. They each get a few cold pieces of meat cooked the night before and bounce around on the spot to get some heat back into their limbs. They pack their gear as quickly as they can, eager to get off the mountain.

The follow the path through the mountain. The layer of snow is thin and eases their struggles, but the ground is slick and treacherous beneath their feet and they take each step carefully. Still with their slow pace, it only takes a few hours of walking in the narrow pass before the path opens up again before them.

Matthias expects a rush of cold wind once the protective wall disappears, but instead the air remains calm. They step out and are surprised to see a lack of heavy storm clouds they wandered through the previous day. The sun shines weakly through a thin layer of clouds and the view before them is astonishing. A blanket of snow covers most of the mountain and outside the protective shelter of the mountain pass, it is thick again, but the lowlands are bare and the autumn leaves that still clings weakly to their branches paints the forest in bright reds and oranges. There is a dense forest stretching for kilometers as far as the eye can see; only interrupted by a few smaller hills.

Trym sighs in relief and points ahead towards one of the hills. "It is about a week's journey to the capitol from here. This is saving us a few weeks of travel I'd say. If we follow the road as it is, we will walk through two smaller towns or villages along the way, but we should decide beforehand if it might be smarter to avoid them or not."

They begin their descent with spirits high. Matthias enjoys the slight bit of sunshine that reaches his face and warms his frozen skin. "It might be smart to walk through these villages and get a feeling of what is going on in this area and what sort of reception we can expect in the capitol," he comments as they walk. "If we can't get through a town without upsetting the locals, we can definitely not walk into the capitol."

"That is a good point," Tino says lightly, smiling at the sun. "I've always wondered what things were like on this side of the mountain, I've never traveled this far before. It's so warm here."

"Don't get too excited," Gorm warns. "People are exactly the same on both sides of the mountain; here they just used to a shorter winter, the lucky bastards. They might not be happy to welcome refugees, and we have to be careful. We don't know how the capitol has treated people on this side. With all the trouble our little rebellion has caused in the west and north, the soldiers might have orders to turn against the towns closer to their capitol to steal their resources. We might meet a lot of death and destruction here as well."

Tino's face falls. "Gods I hope not," he whispers. Berwald discreetly places a hand on his lower back in a supportive gesture, but nobody seems to notice besides Matthias.

Gorm's ominous words turn them silent once again. The slope before them is steep to a point where they have to sit down in the snow and scoot down the hill on their asses to make sure they won't fall. They spend most of their day getting down the mountainside. Halfway down they meet with the first line of small trees and as they keep descending, it gets denser. The thick layer of snow thins out until it disappears completely, the trees providing enough shelter that the ground is bare.

"I say we make camp early today" Trym huffs as he struggles to keep balance. "This is the perfect opportunity to get firewood to last us a while and we need a chance to recover a bit. Winter has not yet taken too brutal a hold of this place, we might be lucky enough to find some game out in these woods, or what do you say Tino?"

Tino smiles. "We have walked by a few older tracks already; I'd say our chances are fairly good."

"There are even a few berries left to find" Vilje interrupts.

"This is good, there is a chance the villages will be unwilling to sell us any of their supplies and hunting to near the capitol is risky business, all those forests and the game in them are owned by either the king himself or his nobles. Getting arrested is certainly not part of my plan." Gorm says.

Then we make camp as soon as the terrain flattens out," Trym says. "It shouldn't be long now."

True to Trym's word, the terrain does flatten out about two hours later; the sun is getting low in the sky. Matthias drops his backpack with a relieved groan the moment when Trym calls for a halt. "Guess we divide the duties and head on out before it can get dark," he sighs.

Tino fishes out his bow from the bags and puts on the string to test the tension on it. "If you are all okay with it, I would like to take one of the horses out and see if I can catch us a decent dinner."

Trym lets out a quiet curse. "I would love to join you, boy, but I'm afraid with my arm I'd be of no use out there."

"That is fine," Tinos smiles, always optimistic. "I'll be fine on my own for a few hours. It's going to feel good to just hunt again and pretend things are back to normal for just a short while."

"I'll guess I'll collect firewood," Matthias offers.

"I'll join" Berwald grunts immediately after.

"You can take the other two horses then. You might have to look for a while to find enough dry wood on the ground to last us until we reach the capitol, you will need the muscle" Gorm says, kicking away a few branches on their would be campsite. "I'll stay here with Trym and set up camp. Vilje can see if she can find any edible greenery if she wants." He looks at her in challenge and she kicks him swiftly in the shin.

"Better be careful old man, or I'll serve you poisonous mushrooms and make sure you spend the night crouched behind a bush cursing you existence."

"I think that is our cue to leave," Matthias interrupts with a laugh before Vilje has time to get more creative with her threats. He unloads the horses and hands one set of reins to Berwald and takes one himself.

They head out with axes to cut up larger branches and ropes so they can tie the firewood to the horses. There is not a lot of dry wood close to their campsite, so they aim to go a bit deeper into the forest. Tino races past them a few minutes after they start walking and waives before he disappears among the trees.

The two of them continue walking in comfortable silence for close to an hour before they find a good spot with plenty of fallen braches that are relatively dry. They have gathered a fair amount when a sudden sharp crack makes Matthias snap to attention. "What was that?"

Berwald stops and listens as well, but shakes his head after a few moments of silence. Matthias strains his ears, but there is not a sound, not even birds. He rest his hand on the axe in his belt and walks towards where the sound came from. The horses tosses their heads and whinnies anxiously, noticing the tense atmosphere.

He is about to relax and turns back to continue his task, when another branch snaps right behind him and he whirls around and comes face to face with an angry face and a longsword aimed at his face. "Don't you move, boy!" The stranger growls. He casts a quick glance behind himself towards Berwald and another man has walked up behind him, also armed with a sword. Berwald freezes on the spot when the tip of a sword nudges him in the back.

Out from the trees steps a group of eight more soldiers, armed to the teeth, quickly surrounding them. Their clothing is surprisingly ragged compared to the soldiers they have met and fought earlier. One of them steps up between his men, clearly the leader. A jagged cut marks his face, red and inflamed. A bloody bandage circles his arm. Matthias glances at the others, more of them are sporting bandages and bloodied clothing. The leader notices his staring and snarls at him.

"Yes, we were not as lucky crossing the mountains like you obviously were," he sneers.

Matthias's stomach drops and he can feel the color drain from his face. He was sure they would lose any pursuers while crossing the mountain, especially with the weather they had. "Clever trick," the leader continues. "Crossing the mountain in winter, you did almost manage to lose us there for a moment, never heard of anyone taking that trek through the snow. You cannot believe how angry I was when I realized we should have attacked you little group sooner before the plains. Your silly little move cost me three men. Damned wolves got to us after the rocks and almost became our downfall."

The soldiers herd Matthias and Berwald closer to each other and surround them with swords pointed at them. "You will secure us a fine reward when we get you and the rest of you little gang back to the capitol. Any rebels caught alive that can give the king any information about the rest of you will be worth a lot of coin. We will be welcomed back as heroes."

The leader circles them and Matthias wonders how much the man enjoys the sound of his own voice. "You must be real bad at you job if you lost three men just crossing the mountain." Matthias taunts, he is not about to just surrender that easily and wants to see what kind of temperament their capturer has.

"You little shit!" The man roars and marches towards him, lifting a fist, clearly intending to strike. Berwald is quicker than Matthias, seeing an opportunity and rushes towards the closest guard, barely ducking underneath the sword aimed at him and knocks the leader over. "Warn the others!" he yells towards Matthias as he throws himself towards the legs of the guard blocking the way for Matthias before the leader has time to recover.

Matthias does not hesitate. He dodges the sword swung at him by one of the guards that manages to react quickly enough and he runs.

He ignores the yells and the sounds of fighting and weaves through the branches, running as fast as he can. He jumps over roots and ducks underneath branches, ignoring the sting from twigs snapping against his face. Then, something hits him in one ankle and wraps around his legs, tangling up and making him trip and fall flat against the forest floor. He reaches down to see a heavy bola wrapped around his legs and then a soldier throws himself over him and pins him to the ground.

Matthias struggles wildly, throwing punches and even landing a few good hits, but the soldier has the upper hand since he cannot move his legs and he is quickly pinned to the ground.

Another soldier comes running, and settles his entire weigh on one of Matthias' arm, the first soldier holds down the other. One of them holds a knife to his throat and Matthias stops struggling with the cold metal scraping against the sensitive skin of his throat.

"That was stupid of you," the first soldier snarls right up against his face and Matthias can feel his rancid breath. "Lucky for you we want rebel scum alive or I'd gut you right here. You deserve it for all the trouble you caused us."

"Hold up a second" The second one interrupts and uses one hand to push the other soldier a bit back. "I think this is not just some random rebel. Look at that face. Doesn't he look a bit familiar to you?"

The first soldier pushes the hair from Matthias' face and forces him to look straight up at them. His expression changes from fury to curiosity. "I think you might be right," he says with a smirk. Matthias tries to turn his head to the side to get away from their stare, but they push the knife harder against his throat and he can feel the sting as skin is broken and freezes again.

"His hair is longer and he looks a bit scruffier," the soldier continues, "but this might actually be one of their leaders. Not that war veteran, but one of the others." His voice sounds delighted at the discovery. Matthias feels only dread. "Bring the other one over here!" he yells. "Our catch might be more valuable than we first thought."

Matthias hears crackling leaves and branches as more of the soldiers move towards them. There is a loud thud next to him. The knife eases up just enough that he can turn his head to the side and see Berwald kneeling unsteadily beside him, as the soldiers clearly tossed him to the ground. There is blood dripping from his nose and mouth and the skin around one eye is already swelling up to a point where he probably cannot see properly on that eye.

The leader steps up in front of Berwald and holds his jaw to force his face up, then turns it to both sides, inspecting it closely and then a smile breaks out. He looks at Matthias and smiles even wider.

"Tie them up and then we'll make a plan to capture the others." The leader orders, then he leans down and smirks cruelly at his two prisoners. "Oh, the king is going to give us a handsome reward when we deliver all of you to him."