The mountain
air is fresh and cold as it brushes against my face. I peer at the trail
through the blizzard that surrounds my group of hikers. Each person is clotted
with white mounds of snow and they move at a steady, but slow pace.
“How much
longer?” I have to yell over the roaring winds of the raging blizzard.
“Almost there
why?” The leader of the group yells back. He’s an older gentleman who looks no
younger than at least 50. However his physique argues a different point of his
age; the man has broad shoulder and a relatively strong build about him;
however the one thing that gives away his age is his worn face, and the gray
hair on top of his head.
“No reason.” I
say “I just have this feeling.”
After about 5
minutes, the view of our destination comes into view, it is a large inn that’s
windows glow a yellow light, and it’s chimney emits the smell of burning maple
and oak wood. The group charges at the slightest sight of the inn and busts
into the door, practically breaking it. The patrons inside appear not at all
stunned, seeing as how this could be a common occurrence this high in the
mountains.
“What can I
get you boys?” Asks a young bar maid that works for the inn. Her hair is a ruby
ginger hue, and her body type is slim and lean, but there’s something off about
her and I don’t like it.
That’s when Steve
gets up almost immediately and attempts his ‘charm’.
“Oh my, what
on earth is a lovely young lady like you doing so high in these areas?” He asks
with a sly tone and a grin on his face, but I can’t help but lean in the
doorway and put my head down to stifle a laugh. He places me a quick glare
before returning to his lady friend.
“Oh please,
the real question is what are you boys doing here at this time? It’s past
midnight and the weather is atrocious.” She winks and says with a hint of over
flattery. Steve continues his hopeless endeavor on wooing the young lady, but I
decided to walk around and scan the place and the other patrons. The area is
relatively nice, and the patrons are all mostly middle-aged or older and appear
to be tradesman or merchants; some with scruffy beards and unkempt hair, and
others with well-groomed features and no facial hair. It is actually quite easy
to tell who’s a merchant and who’s not.
I watch as our
group slowly defrosts and takes spaces around the room; Laura takes her place
near the fire and sits against the wall, her sturdy but small frame curls into
a ball. Don, our pack leader, leans against the wall and puts his head down,
his gray hair falling over his face and hiding it. Finally we have Emma who sits right next to
Laura; they could be twins if it wasn’t for the difference in hair and
attitudes. Laura has long black hair, and always has it falling over her
shoulders. Her attitude is too keep to herself, and she generally avoids
everyone except Emma, who has bright blonde hair that’s curly, and is always
upbeat. Emma leans against Laura, and by the time I look back at them I can tell
she’s asleep.
I walk light footed,
as I always do, across the room and look at Don, who practically expected me to
come and he ushers me upstairs where no one is around. Once upstairs, we clear
far from the stairs and stop at the end of the hall, near one of the lit
windows I saw on my way here. He’s relatively tall as well, he stands about
half a foot taller than me and his silver eyes meet mine.
“I guessed you’d
want to talk, and I know I couldn’t avoid it for long.” He says with a sigh.
“ Yeah, just
tell me what’s going on.” I say, interested, but also somewhat agrivated.
“Well….”
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