The winds were volatile on Snowspire Mountain, and they were so cold that they were blistering Silas’ ears and nose. His head was wrapped tight with wool, but it did little to defend the cold, damaging winds. His body was wrapped in animal hides with a very large hooded cloak, made from a huge bear, over his shoulders. The bear’s mouth was open in an eternal scream, and Silas’ wool wrapped face could barely be seen poking through the bear-head turned hood. Onward, he pushed up the icy slopes of the ancient landmark; shoulders hunched over trying to keep his leverage. A fall from this altitude would mean death for certain, and death was something that Silas wanted to save for another day. Giant spoon-shaped shoes, made out of bamboo, were strapped to his boots helping him to stay on top on the drifting snow, but regardless of his efforts he still sunk to his knees. Occasionally, he was forced to take his butaskis, which was what the old man who sold them to Silas had called them anyway, off so that he could catch a better footing. Higher still he climbed; there would be no rest until this journey was over. His body ached, and his soul was worn ragged from his journey. The trek had taken its toll on Silas; several times he had pondered retreating down the steep rocky expanse of the mountain. He could not back down now. It was far too late.
The man was immensely proud, and he would not let a mountain become the best of him. Silas had lived through much worse. He chuckled a little, remembering a saying that his grandfather had made stick; “Life’s hard edge is ever-sharpening the blade of your mind.” Silas could remember no truer words. Although his pride was enough to outshine any man’s, his duty was what had brought him this far. No, he would not back down. Silas knew what he had to do. Friends had abandoned Silas when he had asked them to come with him; his family was gone, save his wife. There was not a soul left by his side. There was no deity looking over his shoulder. The fools would pay for their insolence. Silas would be sure of it.
After what seemed like hours of trudging through knee deep snow and meandering up the rocky slope, Silas had finally found what he had come all this way for. A small opening in the side of the mountain came into his view through the blowing snow, and so Silas pushed ever harder towards his goal. He threw his pack up into the small crevice, and then hoisted himself up with a grunt. For the first time all day Silas was protected from the bitter cold winds whipping around him. It felt great to be out of the icy winds, but there was no time for rest. Still his hands ached, and his face burned. Pulling the bear-head hood down behind his head, Silas slowly began to crawl deeper into the cave.
Silas knew what he was going to find in the small cave at the top of Snowspire Mountain, but seeing with his own eyes what his vision had portrayed was something else entirely. Seeing it made Silas’ heart sink down to the pit of his gut. A mother, recently taken by the cold touch of death, was still clutching her newborn babe to her breast. The baby was still alive, and howling a terrible cry that matched the shrieking pitches of the gushing winds. Silas looked all himself cautiously and made his way over to the howling child; there was almost no way of telling what had taken this young mother’s life. Slowly and cautiously, he crept closer until he could see the newborn babe. It was beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful thing Silas had ever seen in his life. The horror of the scene made Silas shed a single tear, but there was no time for crying now. This gorgeous child needed help. And so Silas replaced his sorrow with fury; oh how would he make those fools pay for leaving Silas alone to rescue this child. Anger overtook him.
The babe’s soft red hair glistened in the dimly lit cave; it shimmered like a copper penny tossed into a shallow pool of water. Although the child was tiny, it was also fully aware of Silas’ presence. The terrible wailing of the child slowed to a soft whimper, and the newborn finally started to calm down. Silas removed the long strips of wool that he had wound around his hands to try to protect them from the cold. Putting both of his hands cupped to his mouth he breathed out heavily, trying to warm his frozen appendages so that the infant would not be startled by his cold touch. Slowly, Silas removed the dead mother’s arms from around her child. Luckily, she had not been gone long, and so her arms still moved fairly easily. Carefully, he removed the tiny babe from its mother’s arms, and he held the child to his own breast; Silas gently cooed in its ear trying to help calm its nerves.
“Be still my child, your safe with me,” Silas cooed softly to the infant. A funny thought occurred to Silas; what would my wife give to see this right now? The baby looked up at Silas, and he could have sworn he saw relief quickly brush the infant’s face. Their journey down the mountain would not be easy. It took everything Silas had to get here, but it really was just the beginning of their journey. He had to get this child to safety. Unfortunately, their journey wouldn't be over for quite some time yet.
