The beast rushed in a blur of white. As soon as Cillian saw the beast’s assault, he dove out of the way. He rolled up onto his feet and wasted no time in breaking out into a full sprint down the hill.
His legs moved faster than he could control, and as he fought to regain some power over them, he realized that it was futile. One slight stumble, off balancing, or slip on the snow would be the end of his story.
Loud thuds banged behind him. The beast’s movements were even less coordinated than Cillian’s. Its large frame and long limbs were not conducive to moving easily in this forest, and as a result, it was constantly crashing into the trees. The rage-fueled drive allowed it to keep up the chase with the much nimbler boy, despite the obstacles.
This descent down the forest was unlike the first time for Cillian. Before, he was in shock, pain, and desperately seeking any relief from the beast’s hunt. This time was different. Cillian kept checking the sky between his near misses of trees. He was looking at the steady column of dark smoke rising in the sky.
Just follow the smoke.
The large pile of green pine and spruce needles that Cillian had put on his campfire was producing the smoke that was serving as Cillian’s compass. That was one lesson he remembered his father had taught him: the more the green, the more the smoke.
The two tumbled down the mountain. It was late evening now, and the forest had grown darker than before. The speed at which Cillian was racing made the air drag violently against his eyes, causing his vision to blur and tears to escape.
When he glanced up at the smoke again, he realized it was too much to the side of him. He would have to adjust his direction.
Cillian made a sharp turn to keep his path aligned with the smoke. The change in direction slowed him just enough for the beast’s diving attacks to barely graze his back. The sudden and surprising impact tilted him forward enough to make him fall over. Cillian pushed off the ground and tried to get back to his feet, but the beast grabbed his ankle and pulled him down.
Cillian flipped onto his back to face the monster. He kicked at the claw that firmly gripped his foot, but to no avail. One tug brought him closer to the beast. Cillian kept kicking with his free leg, now at the beast’s imposing body. The creature raised its other arm to strike down its captured prey. Cillian closed his eyes and brought his arms to his face in an instinctual response, the whole time still kicking. He was expecting the weight of the incoming colossal impact, but instead, he felt his foot jam into the back end of his spear that was still stuck in the beast’s chest.
It was enough to interrupt the beast’s attack and send it reeling in pain. It loosened its grip on the ankle and Cillian bolted free.
He ran and ran with his heart feeling like it would explode from the near-death encounter. Cillian could sense the monster’s resumed chase. He wasn't completely conscious of the speed he ran with, and before he knew it, he could see the light of his fire in the distance. That was his signal.
Almost there.
Cillian accelerated past his fire, feeling its warmth for a brief moment. The beast’s tumbling movements caused a huge upheaval in snow that extinguished the flame. It did not concern Cillian, he made it this far and there was only a little bit left. While still maintaining his speed, he unsheathed his knife.
Within a few more seconds of running, Cillian burst out of the forest, followed by his pursuer. He turned the corner and ran onto the stone ledge that he had climbed earlier that day.
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In the distance, he saw that his pack was sitting next to a rope that was tied firmly against a stone formation and pulled taut up and around another stone outcropping. Cillian slashed the rope with his knife in one swing as he flew past.
Just a few more meters in front of him was the gap in the ledge. Cillian summoned all the energy from whatever reserves remained in his body and leaped.
Cillian traveled in an elongated arc through the air. On his descent from the apex, he saw a large log swing down and just miss the top of his head.
He landed with his elbows and felt the pain of the impact. As soon as he reached the other side of the gap he heard a loud grunt echo behind him. Cillian pulled himself up onto the safety of the ledge and turned to see the beast slumped over with a log, attached to a rope, pierced right through its thick neck.
Cillian laid back and sighed. He looked up at the trap that he had laid for the creature. The entire day was spent finding the right sized wood, sharpening it to a deadly point, fastening it with his rope, getting that rope over one of the horizontal stone outcroppings, and arming it. The whole thing functioned like a pendulum. The rope Cillian cut had been bound at the unsharpened end of the log, pulled over the stone outcropping, across the gap, and anchored next to his pack on the other side. The whole trap was like an ax raised and ready to chop. All he needed to do was get the beast to stand in front of it.
Cillian sat up to admire his work. The body of the dead beast was held upright by the trap that killed it. It was limp and swayed in the wind. All he had to do now was figure out a way across this gap, again.
***
The sky was a muddy overcast. Snow fell sparsely, dotting Cillian’s black hair with white specs. He turned to look at the forest behind him. It was easy to pass through after its predatory inhabitant was dealt with.
Cillian felt like he had enough action after his battle with the beast, so he used the remainder of the day before to relax by a nice warm bonfire. He felt like he deserved it.
Now, after rejuvenating sleep and plenty of rations, Cillian was ready to finish the quest he had set out on.
From where he stood he could see the top of the mountain. It had taken two strenuous days, but on this last one, Cillian hoped to capture that red cloth.
He marched up the mountain, being careful with his steps. He was still a little on edge from the events of the previous day and didn’t want to awaken another sleeping giant.
His next few hours were uneventful, outside of the occasional off-balancing by the strong wind. Cillian felt like a storm was on its way, but the snow stayed light. Only the wind was heavy.
By noontime, he had reached the summit of the mountain. The wind was stronger here and it blew against his direction of movement, forcing him to fight for every step.
Cillian looked around. The summit was a bare block of ice layered on a rocky surface. Cillian did not enjoy it here at all. It was, however, the only way for him to retrieve the red cloth Tagus had hurled.
The “flag” was planted on the side of the mountain, but that side was all steep cliffs. The only way for Cillian to reach it was to climb down from the summit.
He approached the far edge of the peak. It was the only side that had the sudden drop-off where Cillian knew his goal lay. He tried to look over the edge, but the sudden vertigo of looking down thousands of meters sent him stumbling backward.
Instead, Cillian got onto his hands and knees and crawled over to the edge. He stuck his head out and looked down. A pit formed in his stomach. Cillian let out a nervous chuckle.
The area he saw was predominantly gray and white, like the rest of the mountain, and dotted with clouds of fog. As he scanned from one side to another, he saw it.
The bright red of the little cloth was impossible to miss. He guessed it was only a little more than a dozen meters down.
This is it.
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[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/601007576796233728/1009967308321595452/igrisbitt_the_top_of_a_mountain_snowing_realistic_11d341a9-7ad9-44be-b269-c45547b753d7.png]
Gazing at the summit