Swirling icy daggars bit and tore at the mass of determination moving forward in the glazed surface: no notice or care was given to them. Step by steady step broke through thin-crusted crystal sheet as soft white resistance deepened gradually and blue shadows lengthened. Still, no concern was wasted on any extra effort. This weathered soul was at one with such elemental forces. Only one matter was worthy of this being's attention. The direction headed after a good hunt: Home at last.
Boris was old school trapper and mountain man. A check of his hand-hewn log cabin would reveal there were no shortcuts or fancy comforts in his way of`life. Nature provided just about everything he needed. Except for items like weapons, cast iron cookware and liquor.
Boris sought almost constant isolation in the beautiful Canadian Rocky Mountains. Occasionally, as heavy blankets of snow crept down mountainsides and drifted into the lower valleys, he would appear in the tiny towns located below. This was only during winter season: after sunlight disappeared almost entirely from day. When darkness seemed to reign over the land for several long months. Otherwise, he remained in the alpine regions hunting, fishing and mostly forgotten.
It's not that Boris hated people in general. No, the world was left behind decades ago for another reason. It had taken his loved ones. Afterward, it refused to serve justice because of a technicality. Unable to accept a modern world that could live with laws like that. he finally rejected it, leaving all that nonsense behind for something better.
Nature was much easier to understand. Her laws were clear, honest and basic. There was no room for fools, cheaters or murderers. Animals were easier than man to live with. Their motives and needs were simple and uncomplicated. He knew where they stood, and they all lived the same laws.For a man who had lost everything, Boris had gained an essential measure of peace, privacy and refuge in their world.
Therefore, the loud banging against his door in the middle of the night was quite a surprise. On the other side in the howling wind, stood a bundled figure, arms folded across the chest and face practically covered in head gear.
“So.... sorry..to.. be... disturbing..you..Can I.. come..in?” the man stuttered, the words like glass breaking, shattered by the wind, which snatched them away. Its icy cold fingers reached in through the open door, tearing at the warmth,ripping it outwards. “Please...sir?”the man unfolded his arms and reached outward.
Boris stood there looking at this apparition for several moments before stepping forward to grab him: pulling the half frozen figure inside. He closed the door quickly and latched it shut. Turning, he walked over and added another log onto the burning remains in his stone fireplace. Pointing to a stool nearby, he looked at the figure standing in the middle of the single room observing his actions.
“Sit,” he gruffly barked, then picked up a kettle...