As the sun fell beyond the horizon and darkness descended on the forest, the howls of many a foul creature echoed on as far as the mountainside. Roldan returned swiftly to his cave with not but his rope and tinder. The day had proved unsuccessful once again. It had been three whole days since his last feed and the effects had begun to weary him. As he dropped down into his camp, he closed over the leaves and grass until blackness had engulfed him. He struggled to make his way to the centre of the cave but eventually he managed to set down the dried wood and leaves and set them ablaze with the sharp stones he kept with his other assorted tools.
The bright orange glow slowly illuminated every inch of the hovel until he could see what was left of his water supply. Ten days had gone by since he last filled his bucket at the spring and the cool, clear water was dwindling. He cupped his hands firmly and drank from the icy fluid. It clung to his throat and would not let go, but in a matter of moments, his mouth became dry once more. Lying next to the soft crackling fire, Roldan felt the weak and broken man inside him begin to fight for freedom. Each night it crept upon him like a disease and he would fight it until dawn, with all the courage he could spare, he would fight it so that he could survive the hostile environment, conquer the towering landscape and finally become a man free of regret and sadness. In only a short time, he had fallen back into a perilous sleep, from which his soul would need to fight long and hard to wake from.
Roldan woke with great pain. The fire had all but died out leaving the small cave dim and grey. He slowly made his way to the covered entrance. As he pulled back the base of his camouflage door, he was sprayed with ice and snow which stung his tough, scar infested skin. It had snowed every night for three weeks and each time, he hoped for a blast of the sun’s rays to smother his pale face. However, his hopes did not bring him justice from the bleak winter outside. He lifted himself out of the hole and covered it back over to avoid any animals making it inside in his absence.
While readying himself for the long walk ahead, a soft twitter met his ears. He glanced up to the trees and saw a small, teal-chested bird sitting on a branch watching him past its small, black beak. In times such as these, Roldan was able to stop and simply admire the beauty within the dense, white forest. Soon though, the bird flew away, leaving him to his thoughts and letting him back into reality. He gathered his knife from its sheath and rope from his shoulder and began walking west, toward the mountain in search of wildlife.
Once he had reached the edge of the mountain, he started climbing. He climbed until he could see the canopy from above and there he sat for hours, watching silently. This was a ritual he had performed for as many days as he could count and from the mountain, he saw everything; The tops of hundreds of pine trees, the valley filled with ice to his left, the plain white clearing to his right and the great shape of the rising sun staring into his eyes as he watched the gentle forest.
Just as the sun made its way to the peak of the mountain, Roldan spotted a figure below him. It was large and moved slowly. He descended the mountain quickly and quietly, planting every step with caution. When he came to the base and felt the soft soil beneath his feat, he spied his surroundings with haste. The beast was to his right and with great care he followed its tracks in the snow until he came to the edge of the clearing where the animal had stopped. From closer inspection, he gathered that he had stumbled onto a stag. It was soft brown with a long face and large antlers. He edged his way gently towards the stag, making sure not to alarm it with noise of any sort.
He made to within an arm’s reach of the beast and just as he raised his knife to strike, it fled with immense speed. Roldan, driven by hunger and madness, decided to chase his prey through the pines. The stag dodged and weaved through the trees with ease and its predator was keeping in toe. He knew his way through the forest and displayed speed beyond any he had experienced before. His mind had fallen victim to hunger and desperation which now controlled his every muscle, willing him to catch this meal.
Suddenly, without warning, his hunting instincts kicked in and he chose to fall back behind the pace of the stag for a short time, letting it slow to a stop. The darkness that had covered them now worked in Roldan’s favour. He crept closer to the deer, concealed by shadow, and finally sprung into the air, knife held high and struck the beast on the back of its hind legs, laming it until it fell to the ground where he was able to quickly slice through its throat to end its suffering. He tied its legs together and lifted it with much pain over his weak shoulders, determined to feast for the first time in what seemed like decades.
The only thing that brought Roldan to his epiphany was an almighty howl from a wolf that seemed far too close to be overlooked. “Dusk,” he thought with horror in his face. The woods were not safe in the dead of night and he knew that all too well from experience. Examining his surroundings, he made a sprint for his cave which lay to the north-east. His pace was exceptionally slowed by the large meal on his back, but he did not stop, nor would he let go of the animal for he knew that in the morning the only thing left of it would be its bones; its flesh having been supper for the wolves and bears that roamed the tundra.
Finally seeing the low-hanging spruce in the distance which marked his home, Roldan found even greater strength in his legs which were already aching and quivering under the weight. However, within only metres of the cave, he was thrown to the side by a force that leaped on top of the stag on his shoulders. Fearing the worst, he made for his knife and swung hard and fast at the snowy creature. He struck something and felt a spray of liquid on his face and arms, though he did not stop to look back. He ran with all his might and slid along the snow, opening into the shaft and falling into the black abyss with the makeshift door closing behind him. Dark, alone, hungry and scared; he fell asleep once more, fighting his diminishing spirit.
