The snow covered the land like thick cloth. It bowed the branches of the trees with its weight, and hid the undergrowth. What had once been ridges and hillocks were now rills and mounds, their features flattened and smoothed. Even the noises of nature had been affected by the snow, leaving the air cold and sterile. The only sounds that Ranger Taber could hear were his lungs struggling in the chilled air, and his footsteps as they broke through the crystals that had formed on top of the snow.
Taber's attention was focussed on a trail of footprints that stretched into the trees ahead. The footprints were new, their edges still glistening in the weak sunlight. They had been made by a man moving slowly and deliberately, lifting his feet to avoid losing his balance. The trail left by Taber was lighter, more messy and marked by irregular lumps of snow on each side. It showed that the ranger was in a hurry, in contrast to the other's more methodical pace.
A loud crack broke the winter silence. Taber halted, hefting his rifle. Had the noise come from a branch surrendering to its frozen burden? Or was it the result of some deliberate action by his quarry? Taber peered into the shadows ahead of him, looking for any sign of movement against the snow. Nothing. But, what if ... ?
Taber began to move forward again, still following the footprints. This time, instead of shuffling speedily alongside them, he placed his feet in the imprints left by the man he was following. He slowed his pace, listening and watching for something - anything - that might show him where his prey was. The trail climbed a rise, tumbled down the other side, and stopped.
What had happened? The snow had been disturbed recently: kicked up as if someone had rolled in it. Any footprints that might have been left had been obliterated. Taber halted, looking around the snow-filled hollow. Where had his quarry gone?
There was another crack! Louder! Behind him! Taber twisted around, trying to see where the noise had come from, and caught sight of a branch swinging towards his side. It hit hard, and Taber felt his ribs give from the impact. The next blow hit his rifle, knocking it out of his hands and sending it skidding across the snow, out of his reach.
Taber and his assailant glared at each other, sizing each other up. Yes, the other man was bigger and stronger than the ranger; but he was colder, slower, more tired. Taber looked his opponent in the eye, waiting. The man's gaze shifted momentarily.
The booming crack of a gunshot rang through the cold air, followed by another. Then there was silence.
