Frosty fog raised from the chapped and dry lips of Drunn farrows as a sigh escaped them on the slopes of the Caradas. He stayed kneeled, for once hood less, glove less, completely bare except the tattered furs and bindings that made up the kilt that he wears. Flakes of snow dotted his chest and arms. His black, matted mane flowing behind his broken and worn face in the biting and unforgiving breeze of the mountain. Drip by drip crimson fell from his clenched right hand, a knife of bone and wood held loftily in his left before it was dropped to the snow at his knees. White turned to red as his blood was washed up into the flakes, as if a drop of wine in water. He whispered something of his own tongue to the small flat stone in front of him, of which was covered by the intestines and organs of an elk he had previously taken as his own sustenance.
'' Go lucht duine a fhiach's deireadh tar ar ann faoi sciochain bheith a mhithapa. ''
Ragged boot-prints and the dragging of furs trailed away from the flat stone and it's gorey toppings, drops of crimson trailed along next to the boot-prints like a wolf with it's master. Slowly Drunn made his way down the slopes, the pitch black braid that hung from out of his earthly colored hood swayed this way and that from it's bearers movements. A fait clatter echoed through the pristine night and mountain, the culprit was the elk skull positioned proudly upon the Hillmans shoulder, as a trophy and remembrance of it's once grazing owner. The hazel eyes of the man scanned the slope and flakes as he trudged down the grand Caradase's side, searching, wanting. Smoke caught those eyes, of which caused a glimmer to be seen within them. Such a thing was rare indeed, though it was much warmly welcomed this night. Crunching snow sounded step after step, grayed vapors continuing to rise into the air from those cracked and broken lips. Once over a small ridge the hickory eyes were set upon a small fire along with a makeshift tent of fur and wood. Bundled up in blankets and whatever else he could find sat the provider of the fire, his hands rubbing together in desperation for the warmth they so required. Behind him on the small snow covered ridge Drunn fell to his knees as tears found themselves to his eyelids, sharp breathes came one after another from his lips in relief and happiness. Echoing through the air was a spear being pulled from it's holster, a cloak flew free into the wind, a elk skull fell into the snow, furs blew over the edge of the pass, all followed by a bellow of recognition. Jumping in surprise the man near the fire stood, falling stupidly over the furs he was wrapped in. He desperately wriggled out of them and pushed himself from the cold biting ground, his head turned towards the source though he did not get a good glimpse at it as he fell back again into the snow, blood starting to run from his nose. Another echo rose to the caradas, this time in the form of a scream.
Twinkling and twirling flakes of frozen rain fell faster and faster as the storm raised on the mountains side, cancelling out the screams and curses from the man of which owned the fire. Underneath the tears he quickly looked up to find a savage looking man, covered in blood and dirt standing over him, the braid and beard hanging from the mans chin and cheeks blew to the side of him with the snow and flakes, of which was covering his black hair in speckled white. '' W-Who are you?! What do you want?! '' screamed the fires owner in fear, his hands shakily and frantically reaching for the handle of his sword. The next echo of drawn steel was cut short, followed by yet another scream, though this time louder, and holding more meaning. The white ground turns to a dark red, a spear stuck through the mans palm. The man tried to pull his hand free, though all his struggle did was urge on the sea of crimson, and cause his skin to scream out in pain as it was torn deeper. '' I did nothing to you! Leave me! Murder! Death! Savage! '' Steel rang again as a dagger was pulled from the leggings of the fires provider, though yet again followed by a scream as a saw toothed, bone knife was driven through it's palm, pinning the hand to the earth. Nothing came from the mouth of the ''savage'' as his eyes watch the man struggle, scream, kick out at him, pleading, groveling. Though the man knew as well as Drunn did that these were his final hours, he had made a mistake in his past and was now answering for it. After moments of screaming and pleading the man grew silent, shaking to the bone in fear and cold, kneeling next to him, the bloody and savage man grabbed his jaw, pressing it open. Moments later a tongue was thrown into the snow along with splatter of crimson. Screams were replaced with gurgling, coughing. Watching in horror as the spear and knife were pulled out of his hands, he saw the savage start to tie a rough rope to a stone that stood just on the edge of the fall off the side of the mountain.
Shaking his head in fear, the man of the fire rolled to his front, crawling away as fast as he could. Even though he knew it was no use, he tried. Truly it was a valiant effort, for one in the last moments of their life. He did not give up, he was determined, until he felt rope being tightened under his arms and torso, eyes widening. '' You will not have the honor to die as you allowed my own to.. '' was the single thing said by the ''savage'' before knife cut at flesh, at the neck of the man of the fire. Raged on did the snow, faster and harder from above the horrid sight, limply the headless body of the man fell to the snow, trails of blood were left from the dragging of the body to the edge of the mountain, of which it was thrown over. Swaying back and forth in the wind as blood dripped from it's boots and arms the body was shrouded by snow and fog. Drunn took the head by the hair, tieing it into a braid before attaching it to his waist proudly, as remembrance, victory. The mans bones were also taken, and hung all about his furs and clothing, rattling in the bitter air and cold, Drunn shook from the biting air as he lay inside the mans tent, covered in furs, blankets, warmth. That night he slept better than he had for nearly four years, content in knowing that his wife and two sons could look down upon him in pride and peace, finally at rest.
