Gabal marches through the blizzard, shivering with each pained step he took. He raises his shotgun just above his head, shielding his face from the little cold daggers coming straight at him. He continues to muscle through, heading forwards, hoping to find a path to follow. The wind blows harder, nearly sending Gabal flying backwards. He puts all his weight forward, taking one step at a time, until the wind drops and he falls right onto the field of snow.
He lifts his head up, noticing that he was at the foot of a pine tree, the clump of trees breaking the wind a bit. He manages to crawl up to the stump, taking off his backpack, laying down his shotgun, and sighs in relief. Gabal felt that the mountain was warning him to go back, and yet, he couldn’t risk coming back without getting the herb leaves from the mountain.
He started thinking about Grandma. About two hours ago, she had told him that he had a Death Wish, right now, she was probably dead asleep. Hopefully not dead yet, but definitely asleep. She had gotten a cold, a bad cold. Ambulances wouldn’t have been able to get up there, and the village doctor mentioned that taking her out in the cold would kill her in minutes, not to mention that she had only about half a day left. Gabal has never seen Grandma sick before, especially since she was always on his ear to eat more plants from the mountains, instead of the ones they imported into the village. She would say that the plants learn to adapt to the cold, harsh environment of the snow and rocks, getting their strengths and nutrients from the mountain itself. Grandma pointed out that if more people ate the plants of the mountains, we wouldn’t have to consult the village doctor so often. This was especially true, she said, about the herbs that grew higher into the mountain, which grow with rocks as neighbors, the same herbs the doctor needed to make her medicine.
Gabal sighs, opening his backpack. He had no food left, except an apple, the one fruit he disliked the most. Hesitantly, he took a bite out of the apple, and put it back in the backpack. He grabs his shotgun, loads in two shells, gets up and stumbles forward.
The pine trees started getting further and further apart, the more Gabal kept going. The blizzard had died down, and the wind was no longer fighting him as much. Seeing some parts of the rocky mountain starting to show itself, Gabal knew he was getting closer to where the herbs grew.
He kept on walking, and almost tripped over what he thought was a rock. He looked back, noticing that it was round and brown. Gabal shakes off the snow, realizing that it’s actually a dead baby grizzly bear. Immediately, he looks around for the mother, while backing up slowly. He presses his gun close to his chest, walking away further and further away from the corpse. Gabal starts to quicken his pace, stopping when he sees a large brown figure behind the trees. The figure reveals itself to be the mother, who started sniffing her dead cub. The bear seems to gruff in grief, trying to move around the corpse with her snout. Gabal takes deep breaths, releasing some tension. He walks backwards, focusing on the bear’s movements, making sure she doesn’t see him. The bear starts to lay down next to the cub, and Gabal breathes a sigh of relief. He turns around, and trips on a rock, his gun hitting it with an audible thud.
Immediately, he turned himself towards the bear, who was staring right at him. He kept still for a moment, until the bear started to get up and walk towards him. In a panic, he hits the gun away, and struggles to get up, realizing he’d sprained his ankle on the rock. Quickly crawling towards the gun, he uses it as leverage, and looks straight at the growling bear, which was getting ready to chase him down. Gabal thought about trying to escape, but the bear started charging at him at full speed. Quickly, he aims his shotgun and shoots. The shot hits, but the bear just grunts, continuing to charge at him. The bear had gotten right in front of him and swiped at Gabal, who had dodged to the right, landing on his back and narrowly dodging the claw. He aims and shoots again, but the bear still stands, growling at him. Gabal reaches for the side pocket of the backpack, grabbing a shell, the bear starting to stomp towards him. He loads in the shell and cocks his gun. Gabal aims for the head, the bear growls and lunges at him, the loud shot ringing in his ear. The bear falls on top of Gabal, crushing him. Using his shotgun, he stabs it into the snow, using it as leverage to wiggle himself out, getting warm blood all over himself.
He looks at the bear’s forehead, seeing the wound in between its eyes. If it had been any further, the pellets wouldn’t have pierced the skin, and Gabal would’ve fallen victim to a mother’s rage. He takes a moment to think, wondering how hard it must be to care for a child, alone, in this unforgiving cold. His grandma did just that, taking care of Gabal, waiting for her son to come back from hunting, only to return in scattered limbs. Sure, his grandma wasn’t his mother, but might as well have been. He wonders what struggles his grandmother went through, just so he would survive, just so he would have another chance at life.
Now, he stares at the mother in front of him, saddened at her attempt to protect her cub. Out of respect, Gabal takes a piece of the apple from his backpack, and leaves it in the bear’s mouth. She may have not been able to provide for him on the mountain, but at least she’ll have something to give to her child in the spiritual world.
Using his shotgun as a hiking stick, Gabal treads up the mountain, breathing in more and more, as the air thins out. He reaches the rocky plains of the mountain, where plenty of the mountain herb grows, and stuffs a few stalks in his backpack, for his Grandma, and some extra for the doctor.
Gabal limps around, hoping to find a quick way down that doesn’t involve getting mauled by a bear, stuck in a blizzard, or falling off the edge of the mountain. He looked where he came from, realizing that just the trek upwards had cost him a couple of hours, and he didn’t have enough time to go the same way back. Gabal looks around, moving towards the side of the rocky plains. Reaching the edge, he notices that it ends on a cliff, with a rough slide down scattered with sharp rocks and trees. If he survives the slide down, he’ll have enough time to save her. If he doesn’t, they both die. Grandma’s words rang in his ear. Maybe he did have a Death wish. Either way, he wanted to save her.
And so, he jumped.
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