Dipped in Snow
It was cold on the mountaintop. The winds bit into the little boy’s skin like so many ravenous beasts. His feet sank into the churning snow and each step was laboured. And his left eye was frozen shut from the tears. His daddy had told him to go and find shelter, and he had to do that for his daddy. It was the last thing he said before… before… The boy didn’t cast his gaze backward into the white distance where the body of his father would be lying, cold, probably already covered by freshly fallen snow. The little boy had to keep going because that’s what his daddy had told him to do. He had to find somewhere warm and safe because… because… The boy’s movements were slowing. He couldn’t feel his left arm anymore and it was a struggle to move his legs. He felt so tired. His right eye drooped, blinking, vision shifting between white and black.
He collapsed into the snow.
The boy awoke to the sound of people talking. The words came indistinctly at first, his ears not yet used to hearing anything aside from the screaming of the winds. It was an odd feeling, to still be alive. Tears began to spill from his eyes. It was almost with surprise that he realized that they were no longer frozen over. There was a fire nearby which bathed the world in a soft orange light. It cracked softly like children’s laughter and it had a warmth that was almost biting. His left arm prickled and stung but he thought he could feel it again which was probably a good sign.
Slowly and stutteringly, the little boy found he could begin to make out the words being said— though he didn’t understand all of it.
“What are we supposed to do with him?” This was a female voice. The worry and desperation in her tone made the boy want to curl up or crawl away.
“I don’t know.” This voice was a more masculine one, and it sounded tired— just like his daddy had before he…
“He’s going to slow us down.” They were talking about him, weren’t they? The little boy didn’t quite know what was going on, or who the voices were
“Maybe he will, but what would you have us do, leave him to die in the snow? The kid can’t be more than twelve years old.”
“He was mostly dead when you found him; I thought he was dead.” He really had almost died. The boy shivered slightly at the memory of the cold.
“Well, he wasn’t. And isn’t that why we’re doing this— to save people?”
“A lot more people are going to die if that kid slows us down.”
“He isn’t going to be an issue.”
“Let’s pray he won’t be.”
It was all too much for the little boy and the flow of tears turned into a torrent. Abruptly the conversation ceased. He felt gentle hands touch his shoulder and he heard a voice say “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.”
The boy turned slightly and looked into a great bearded face framed in long, unkempt hair. The man towered over Peter, looking like some great figure out of the stories that his dad used to tell him. Peter could not tell if he should be afraid. But the man had warm brown eyes like a hearth fire and the little boy felt just a little bit safer.
“What’s your name?” asked the man.
“P-peter.”
“Well, Peter, can I get you something to eat?”
Peter could scarcely do more than nod.
The man served Peter a bowl of warm soup. At any other time, Peter would have been revolted by it— the broth was scalding while some of the vegetables were still frozen. But, as it was, it was one of the best things he’d eaten in a week— and the only thing he’d eaten in the past 24 hours. He finished it quickly, some of the broth spilling out of his spoon and onto his shirt.
The woman who he had heard speaking earlier sat near him and was eating her own soup much more slowly. The boy didn’t notice the annoyed glances that she cast at the man, who sat there, no bowl for himself.
“So, kid, where are you from?”
“Just from the village.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know, just the village.” The boy’s voice rose in pitch, taking on an almost sulky note.
“Right, from the village then, I see.” There was a pause before the man continued. “What were you doing up here?”
“My daddy finally promised to let me come up here with him and my older brother. He was going to teach me hunting, he said. But then he… he…”
The boy felt the man’s strong arms wrap around him. “Don’t worry we’ll keep you safe. I’ll make sure to watch over you.”
“Are you going to take me back home to mommy?”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t take you home right now. I have a job to do, okay? But I promise that as soon as it’s done, I’ll be able to take you home.”
The boy was almost about to cry again; his face was all scrunched up.
“How about this, your daddy promised to take you hunting, how about I show you how to hunt something really big, okay?”
“Erik…” the woman began, but the man silenced her with a glance.
Peter wiped away some of his tears with his sleeve. “Okay, mister.”
“That’s a good boy. Everything is going to be alright.”
…
The man crouched in front of Peter, lowering himself so that he was looking right into the boy’s eyes. “Peter, we’re going to have to leave now. Do you think you’re up for that?”
“I- I think so.” The boy’s voice came out in a whimper. He didn’t want to go back out into the cold and the biting wind, to feel the cold fingers of frost wrap around his neck and strangle him.
“That’s right. You’re a strong boy.” Erik clapped the boy on the back. “Just put on this coat and follow me, alright? I’ll take the lead.”
Peter took Erik’s hand as the man led him out of the warmth of the cave, away from the soft glow of the firelight, into the cold unfeeling whiteness outside.
“My feet hurt.”
They had been walking for what felt like hours. The sky was covered in a grey that seemed to stretch out towards infinity, dissolving into the horizon somewhere in the far-off distance. Dark pines swayed around them, standing like austere watchers, creaking somewhat in the breeze. The trees’ movements sounded like the rattles of the damned and reminded the small child of ghost stories that his older brother used to tell him. He was trapped marching forwards, in between not knowing where they were going.
Sometimes, he saw wide giant craters pressed into the earth, wider than Erik was tall. Their shape almost reminded Peter of pawprints, but that unnerved him and he tried not to think about that too much. He thought, from the way that the three of them were moving, that they were following the craters. Peter tried not to think about what must have caused them, about what might be out there. Erik had told him he was a strong boy; he didn’t want to be seen crying again.
They stopped a few times by the base of one of the pines. Erik and the woman each bent low to the earth and looked at… something. Peter wasn’t sure what it was and didn’t quite care to ask. He just wanted to be out of there.
“When are we getting home?”
The three of them stopped, and Erik again knelt in front of the little boy, his knee dipping into the white snow. “Your feet hurt Peter?”
The boy nodded.
“We’ve been walking for a fair bit, haven’t we?”
Again, the boy nodded.
“Do you think you can keep going for just a little bit longer? Can you be strong for me like that?”
“I- I think so, maybe.”
“I am so proud of you. It’s only going to be a little bit further.”
“ok” the boy said in a small voice.
“Here, do you want to hold a gun for a second?”
Erik, we shouldn’t let him touch it” the woman hissed, “what if he breaks it?”
“He won’t be able to break it; it’s too sturdy for that. Besides, we gotta do something for the kid— he just lost his dad and almost froze to death.”
But Peter didn’t register the words that were being said. His mind—and his hands—were already fixed around the gun. He’d heard people speak of them before— powerful weapons made in far-off cities that could shatter the skies, wielded by the greatest hunters. Never had Peter ever imagined that he’d get the chance to touch one. He ran his fingers against the cool metal. He could almost see himself reflected in it.
“Wow. Thank you, mister.”
“You’re welcome.” The man took his shining weapon back, and Peter was left with only the memory of it.
And they kept going once again.
Night began to fall as the pale wispy grey of the sky turned darker, a seething writhing mass like the ashes of a dying fire. It was then that they approached the edge of a cliffside.
Peter peered over the cliffs ledge far off, in the dark distance, there was a twinkling of little lights.It took the little boy a second to realize that it was a village, much like the little village where he lived. He thought, for a moment, that it might be his village, that his mother might be looking out through one of those windows, waiting for him, his father, and his brothers to come back home. But it was so far away, and the lights were so small that they could be mistaken for fireflies.
“Is that where you came from?”
“I think so, maybe.”
“Well, if it is, I’ll get you home soon. If it isn’t, I’ll see if I can buy you a new toy there, how does that sound?”
But Peter didn’t get a chance to respond.
“Erik,” The woman tugged at Erik’s sleeve. “Look at that. We found it.”
Peter looked down and saw something quaking in the valley below. There was a dark form lumbering through the blackness, more a shape than a monster. For a moment, Peter didn’t breathe, he just stared at the lumbering form. It was almost beautiful, in the way that it dwarfed anything else that Peter had ever seen. It didn’t look towards them; surely they were too insignificant to enjoy its attention.
“It’s getting closer, we don’t have that much time.”
“What’s that?” Peter asked.
“That’s the thing that we’re hunting. People call them Haermfax— demons of ice and snow.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. There’s something beautiful about them, isn’t there? I still remember my first time seeing one.”
“It really is enormous.” It was the woman speaking now, and her voice was almost breathless. “That one’s bigger than any of the one’s I’ve encountered before. Could it be a maw-class demon?”
“No, if it were you would know by now.” The man chuckled but it lacked any real mirth. “There’d be a wake of destruction more than a mile wide.” He then turned to the little boy. “Peter, why don’t you stand by that tree over there, ok? I need to have a bit of a grown up discussion with Miss Quinn right now.”
Peter nodded before scurrying off to the nearest tree. But, of course, he peered around it, straining his ears to catch what the adults were up to.
“But… you’re right that it’s more dangerous than the other one’s that we’ve faced,” said the man. He was all serious now, taking on a much different tone than he had before with Peter. “I’m thinking it’s most likely R-class. “
“Right, of course. I should remember my studies, I’m sorry I let it get the better of me.”
“Don’t apologize, everyone is shaken when they see a Behemoth of that size.”
“I’ll make note of that. If I remember, R-class demons can be killed with a team of skilled hunters?”
“The two of us are close enough aren’t we?”
“We’ll have to be. Most circumstances, I’d probably even say that we might be better— at least, you might be, sir. But we have… complicating factors at the moment.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s been good so far.”
“He’s slowed us down, Erik; I don’t want to know what will happen if we get there too late. The consequences…” Peter watched as Quinn began pacing, walking back and forth along the cliff’s edge. “And, I can tell that he’s distracted you. You keep glancing back at him; I’ve had to point out signs you would have spotted otherwise. You’re the best of us, and I don’t want to know what will happen if you aren’t at your best.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Quinn. You’ll be even better than me in a month’s time.”
“That isn’t what this is about, sir. We… we can’t let the boy become a liability.”
“He won’t be. We can house him somewhere in the village if we can make it in time. Or we can station him somewhere before we engage the Haermfax if it comes to that. Don’t worry, I’m still focused on what our goal is: to take that thing down and protect people.”
“If you say so, sir. You know I trust your judgment.”
“Thank you, Quinn. That means a lot to me.”
“But, first, we need to find a way to get all of us down that cliffside if you’re set on keeping him with us.”
Peter tried not to look down at the snowy expanse below. It was hard to judge distance when everything was so blanketed by snow and that somehow made things even worse. He held on tight to Erik, his tiny child-sized fingers grasping at the man’s shirt, digging into his flesh. Peter had been tied onto the man with several lengths of thick rope and Quinn had promised that he wouldn’t fall. Her voice had been gentle even, almost kind— but Peter still didn’t trust her. He pictured himself falling down, down, down, into the interminable whiteness, until his body finally hit the ground all crumpled and lifeless. He would be with his father then.
Peter held on tighter to Erik. He closed his eyes and just felt the heavy rhythm of Erik’s breathing as he slowly eased himself down the cliffside.
Down at the bottom, Quinn was already finished with her descent.
…
They were at the bottom of the cliff now, and Peter could only feel relief as Quinn’s rough hands untied him. Peter stared up at the cliffside for a moment, a vast expanse of rock that extended into the heavens. He was very glad he hadn’t fallen.
“Where are we going now?” He turned his wide eyes towards Erik.
“We head onwards, Peter. Just a little bit farther, okay? After this business is done we’ll be able to take you back to your mother. But you need to stay close to me and do everything that Quinn and I say, understand?”
“Yes, mister Erik.” Peter glanced at Quin briefly before turning his gaze away. There was a moment’s pause before the boy continued. “That monster we saw earlier, are you really going to be able to kill it?” Peter asked
A smile stretched itself across the man’s face. “That’s the hope, Peter.”
“Is it going to hurt anyone?”
Erik patted Peter’s shoulder, as though slightly unsure of himself. “No, you don’t need to worry about that. I’ve dealt with things like that before, and I’m still here, right? So I’ve had practice. You can trust that Quinn and I will take care of it. She’s one of the best, y’know.”
“Oh,” The boy looked up at the woman. Even though she wasn’t as tall as the giant of a man that was Erik, she seemed to tower over Peter even moreso. “Thank you, Miss Quinn.”
The woman turned her attention to the little boy, looking at him for a moment before responding. And when she did her words were stilted. “You’re… welcome, Peter.”
It sounded as though she were not used to saying such things. But Peter caught a cracked smile upon her lips as she turned her head away.
They resumed their travels, and the sun began to slowly descend from its place at the crown of the sky, drawing ever closer to the horizon line. Eventually, it dipped behind the trees, with only a few rays of bloody light sneaking through the obscuring pines. Still they pressed onwards.
There was a growing tension inside of Peter, as though all of his nerves were coiling into tight knots. They were approaching the Behemoth, he knew. Always, he could see its massive form rising above the treeline like some ancient weathered knoll. And as they walked, it began to consume more and more of the horizon until it seemed to blot out the sun, its skin that had once been as a mix of bottled grays and whites—a coalescence of snow and ash and bone—was now rimmed in a halo of red. Peter could not take his eyes away from the thing.
Then the sun dipped below the horizon and all was silvered by the moonlight.
At some point, when they were near enough that Peter could feel the earth shaking from the creature’s footfalls, and its hulking form could be seen between the trees, Erik stopped them.
“Alright, we’re almost upon the beast. I need you to listen to me very closely. Quinn and I we’re going to fight it, but I don’t want you getting involved. You’re going to sit here, by this fallen log where it’ll be safe. Don’t worry about us, and whatever you do don’t come running towards the fight, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt. We’ll be back for you in under an hour okay?”
It was to Peter’s slight surprise that Quinn spoke then, her tone almost nearing on gentle. “Yeah, then we’ll get you back to your family, okay kid?”
“Okay, thank you.” Peter then cast his face downward as he thought back to his mother, his elder sister, and his little baby brother. They’d be waiting for him there, wondering if he and his father and brother were dead. And they… and they… A tear froze on Peter’s cheek.
“Don’t think anything of it, kid.” There was a firm hand placed on his back. “We’ll do everything we can for you.”
Peter turned his face away from the snow-covered ground and he instead craned his neck to stare up at Erik. “And you’re really going to be alright?” He couldn’t also lose Erik. He couldn’t.
“Yeah, I promise, I’ve faced tougher things before. This thing is nothing.” And Erik smiled, face bright as the sun reflecting off the dazzling snow.
“Wow.”
“That’s right, Peter. Now just sit tight here for us.” Erik patted him on the shoulder twice, roughly, as though he didn’t quite remember the fragility of normal people, much less children.
“See ya, kid,” Quinn said as she turned and left, flashing Peter a small smile as she did so.
The two hunters then continued onwards into the sparse forest, towards the monster, towards the demon.
Once they traveled a ways away, once they had begun to near the body of the monster, Peter got up from his place upon the fallen log, treading slowly. He stationed himself behind one of the pine trees, only his little head peeking out. More than anything, he wanted to watch his heroes at work. Peter did realize that this might not be what Erik had wanted for him, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking. It was the kind of thing that all kids like to see— great tales of heroes conquering fell beasts.
Peter watched as Erik approached the towering Behemoth, Quinn not far behind him. The bulky mountain of a man who had previously headed over Peter now looked so small compared to the towering monster. The gun at his hip glinted in the moonlight. Peter held his breath.
There was a sound like falling thunder as something split the sky. The demon bellowed and Peter covered his ears from the power of it all. He watched as the beast recoiled, head thrown to the sky. It even stumbled, one of its legs almost slipping. But it regained its footing. And it resumed its inevitable march forwards, toward Erik and towards the man’s death. For what mortal could stand before the majesty of such a creature.
But Erik stood there, unafraid, indomitable. If there was fear in his heart, none showed in his eyes. The man stood against the storm, as though he could hold it back through force of will alone. Peter sucked in a breath as he beheld the sight, Erik, for a moment, taking on even greater majesty than the behemoth. It was at that moment that Peter resolved that he would be like Erik some day. That was what he wanted to be.
There was a soft click that nonetheless rang out against the stillness of the winter as Erik reloaded his gun. And then there came another crack like thunder and a burst of something that looked like hellfire. Blood sprayed from the creature’s neck, staining the white snow red. But this time the demon was not deterred. Instead it picked up speed, swift as falling stars.
Erik made to leap out of the thing’s way, but Quinn seemed frozen in place. She neither moved nor blinked, the only hint of motion being a slight shaking in her shoulders. The demon barreled towards her. Erik grabbed her and roughly threw her out from the demon’s path, breaking her out of her stupor. Only barely did Erik himself escape the demon’s charge.
Despite himself, without even realizing it, Peter drew nearer to the battlefield, his every nerve tingling.
Quinn was on the ground then, hands and knees submerged in the snow. Slowly she rose to her feet, her body still shaking, whether from fear or from being thrown, Erik did not know. “You can do this. You have to be alright,” he whispered to himself.
Peter then watched as Erik knelt by the woman. He could not hear what was being said, but whatever it was seemed to give Quinn strength, for she steadied herself and her shaking ceased. There was newfound power within her, or perhaps merely power now returning.
The demon, for its part, had managed to stop itself after whipping out a half-dozen trees with its hulking body. It turned towards the two hunters, its tail lasing about and carving scars into the earth. At one point Erik had to throw himself down into the snow to avoid the impact.
Quinn rushed towards it, her hunting knife bared. It seemed that she had come back to herself. And Peter could see why Erik had named her as one of the best. Within moments she had cleared the distance between where she had just risen to her feet and where the dread demon stood. Sticking her knife into the creature’s leg for leverage, she began to climb up the Haermfax. Now Peter realized how she could have reached the ground so much sooner than he and Erik had. Blood poured from the creature, streams of red trickling down each of the knife wounds that Quin had made as she climbed up it. Already she was at the things back, plunging her knife into the thing’s thick hide again and again. Peter could hear it screaming.
Another crack broke the sky and there was yet another spray of blood as Erik fired another bullet into the quaking Behemoth. Peter could feel the ground tremble as the Behemoth stamped its feet, twisting all around as it tried to shake Quin off of itself.
An errant swipe of its tail struck Erik and he fell into the snow.
Peter stifled a gasp as he looked at the place where Erik had fallen. That was his hero. No moonlight shone on him just then, no light glinted in his smile. There was only what seemed to be a hole in space where the man should have stood. Peter whispered soft prayers, offering anything if Erik could only get back up.
But soon his attention was drawn once again to the towering demon. It was now riddled with holes, blood pouring from dozens of open wounds, even though Quinn had ceased her stabbing to stare at the place where Erik had once stood.
And the demon was enraged.
It was not in the nature of mountains to move quickly, if it was in their nature to move at all. But the Haermfax had already demonstrated a propensity for swiftness when it had charged at Erik directly. Now, driven by blood and madness and anger, it seemed even more powerful, an unstoppable wall of flesh that merely wished to rid itself of the pain, to wreak vengeance on those that had come to slay it. With the man who had shot it no longer in its sight, and with the woman stabbing it secured firmly on its back, it could only run straight forwards, towards where Peter peered at it from behind a tree.
The Behemoth charged towards him. Peter scrambled away from it, falling backward, hands and body plunging into the cold snow. Cold seeped into him, but he didn’t notice. He only gaped up in horror at the bestial monument to terror and majesty. For a moment, he could only look upon the thing with wonder, not even caring if he was going to die.
“Hey, over here.” Erik emerged as if from the shadows, far nearer to Peter than he had been previously. He stood tall and firm against the demon, even though all of his size and might were dwarfed by the monster. “That’s right, it’s me you want. You know I’m the one that can take you down.”
Peter tried to stifle a gasp as he stared at Erik. The man looked worn and tired, and he stood much less steady on his feet. But still, he stood, upright and defiant. The creature roared and turned towards the man; it knew where its enemy lay.
And then, like the crack of a whip, the demon’s tail swung about, felling one of the deep pines before smashing into Peter. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. Almost, he could hear Quinn and Erik calling out his name. But Peter felt himself falling into black unconsciousness and the whiteness of the surrounding snow dimmed and greyed until all was dark.
Peter felt himself being lifted off his feet by strong arms. Quinn was there, steadying him. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safer,” she said, not unkindly.
There were tears frozen on her cheeks.
Peter staggered slightly as Quinn let go of him, but felt better after her hands returned to his shoulders. He looked around at the desolation, eyes wide. What had been just another patch of pines upon the frozen plane, identical to every other part of the spare forest, was now an area cleared of all trees. Deep gashes carved their way through the now splintered earth. The memory of the battle would linger there for many years.
But the thing that most readily drew Peter’s eye was the thing that would most swiftly disappear from the landscape. There was the hulking body of the Behemoth, now dead. Blood as dark as wine spilled across the clean snow staining it. Erik had slain the beast.
“Where did Erik go?” Peter asked with wide, shining eyes as he gazed across the ruined landscape. There was no sight of his hero.
When Quinn’s words came, they were broken. “Erik… he— he had to go somewhere else. There were other people to save. I’m sorry, but he won’t be able to take you home.”
“Oh. He didn’t say goodbye to me. And he said that he would take me home.”
“He didn’t get to say goodbye to me either.” If Peter had looked closer, he would have seen the remnants of tears shining on Quinn’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. Then, in a smaller voice, “I liked him a lot; he saved me.”
“Yeah, he was wonderful.” Her voice hitched on the last word. But, she cleared her throat and took in a sharp breath.
There was a gun at her side that Peter hadn’t noticed before. It was much more worn than Erik’s had been, the silver dulled with scratches, and some parts seemed almost cracked or shipped. Peter couldn’t see any bullets left in it. And next to it hung her knife, the edge stained with red.
With cracked and scarred hands, she wiped at her eyes. It didn’t seem to do much. “I’m sorry,” she said “Let’s get you back home. Let’s get away from this place.”
