Ascent

The one thing Silvan never got used to was the chill on his face when he woke in the winter. Here, more than just his face was affected by the sensation. He began wriggling out of his sleeping bag, paying extra attention not to the stress on the rope that secured him.

Sapped from the restless night he still admired the view while munching on pemmican the Inuit had gifted him along with some climbing gear. Mindlessly chewing, he thought about the shaman’s last words.

“To me, you are a child. To the mountain, you are not. It will not guide you like I do, but test you at every opportunity. Remember what you’ve learned today and don’t give in to fear and temptation. Those spell certain doom.”

He gulped down the rest of the dried meat to spare himself a few extra seconds of tasting it and continued his ascent. There were uneven paths and, at times, metal rods and other footholds he happily used to climb over obstacles. But even with these supports, the climb was taking a noticeable toll on his body. Holding on for dear life when strong gusts passed by, his ascent dragged on and his breaks became longer and more frequent.

Looking back, he tried to motivate himself by seeing his progress, but whenever he looked up, unable to spot anything resembling a peak, his accomplishments felt meaningless. Climbing over a large boulder, his vision was cut drastically. Penetrating the cloud layer, everything was wrapped in thick fog. With the sounds of nature drowned out, the place felt alien.

Seeking shelter in a spacious crevice, he began making camp. He placed furs where he would rest to prevent hypothermia and padded his flame with wet wood to save on the good pieces he had brought.

The meek fire was hypnotizing. Used to these uneventful moments of silent solitude, he felt lonelier than ever before.
Taking inventory, his rations were dwindling. He had made much less progress these two days than anticipated, and while the descent would be faster and less taxing, he began accepting the possibility that this was a one-way journey.

A sound startled him out of his nap. He had dozed off from the comforting heat and had even singed a part of his mantle by staying too close to the fire.

“Friend?”

“Urho.” Silvan replied with a faint smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Aana told me what happened, so I came.”

Silvan reached out and was in disbelief when his hand touched his friend. “Wait, you’re here? You beast! You’re actually here! This isn't a dream?"

Urho put his arm on his shoulder to prove it.

"Did your grandma tell you to come?"

"No. Aana told me not come."
He shruged.
"But i came anyway."

Feeling reborn, Silvan laughed, unable to recall the last time he had felt this much joy.

“Then how did you find me?”

“I’m a hunter, did you forget? To me you are… a seal! A seal climbing a mountain! Very easy to track.” He nodded confidently.

"What about Jasper? How's his condition?"

Urho broke eye contact, looking into the distance. His usual spiel when trying to say things in a nicer way then he knew how to.

"Aana is with him. It's not good... But don't worry! We will be in time!"

Adding his own fuel to the fire, Urho huddled up to warm them both.

“Do you know how much higher we need to go?”

He thought for a second.
“No. We don’t come up here. The mountain isn’t our friend. We take what it offers, but we don’t challenge it. It's... respect!”

That makes sense. Silvan regretted not taking Urho more seriously in the past. He had followed his advice but never grasped the meaning behind all his quirky instructions and remarks. Urho had been teaching him, but he always complied instead of understanding.

“Don’t worry, friend. Together we are swift! Almost there, I’m sure.”

They shared a block of pemmican and killed the fire, determined to finish the last leg of the climb in one go. Just as Urho predicted, they progressed quickly. Even in these conditions, Urho found clever ways to overcome tricky parts of the terrain. Silvan almost couldn’t believe this was his first time on the mountain, seeing him adapt to so many obstacles with such efficiency.

They pulled themselves up a final cliff when Urho finally collapsed, breathing heavily.
“This is it, friend. This is all I can do for you.”

Ahead lay a narrow path marked by wooden posts on either side. Strange markings were carved into them. Even without Urho stating it, Silvan realized this was the place. It was the early afternoon, and even though breathing had become difficult at this height, the warmth of the sun upstaged the struggle.

It wasn’t the sunrise he missed so dearly, but it was the next best thing.

“Go now. I will wait as long as I can.”

Silvan walked up, almost happy to finally see Urho’s exhaustion. He had clearly overexerted himself to get them here quickly, but otherwise seemed fine for now. Sliding the rifle off his shoulder, Silvan extended it toward him, recognizing Urho’s job was done.

“Thank you, Urho. I don’t think I’d be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, coughing between words. “That’s what friends are for.” He grinned an infectious smile and gripped the rifle without bothering to get up.

They froze, and Silvan’s hair stood on end as a third voice disrupted their conversation. A single voice that sounded like many.

“Have you brought what is owed?”

Without skipping a beat, the icy platform beneath them cracked, breaking the cliff away under Urho’s feet.