The Nameless Survivor (Valkyrie) Read Free Page A

cabin. The below freezing temperatures slow them down, and it has been weeks since I have come across any stragglers. Aside from constant numbness and icy prickles in my skin, the day is in a state of momentary peace.
                  Uneasy silence, generally I'd be wary of such calm in the forest, it was as if life itself was hiding from an unforeseen menace. No, the silence must be an unfortunate result of the frigid temperatures, the forest critters were just waiting out this extended snap from within their cozy little dens. Waiting for the suns warmth to release this land from its dead and icy prison. Unlike my stupid ass, trudging through the fresh snow with my aged and worn snow-shoes, looking for food.
                  I've become ghastly thin, and increasingly anemic over the last few weeks, but the worst of it is the merciless burn within my gut. Living off of fermented rice and lichen soup for the past month has taken a dreadful toll on my body. One might even mistake me for one of the damned, then starvation would be the least of my worries.
                  Thinking back, it was only five years ago that I willingly paid for heart clogging, inedible food at a greasy diner. Now I find myself foraging and hunting for anything that would ease the sharp pains that rip throughout my grumbling stomach. This has been the worst winter yet, never before have I been this thin, and the lichen soup has now become revolting on my palette.
                  “Maybe today is my lucky day.” I thought to myself, but doubt loomed over me.
                  Struggling through the deep and heavy snow I trekked further up my mountain, desperately trying to stay warm underneath my heavy bear-skin coat. The energy that I exerted may in turn be nothing but wasteful idiocy. My small canteen of water had already frozen solid making it all but useless, thus the snow had become my only hydration supplement, dangerous as it was.
                  A frigid burn throbbed within my fingertips as I managed to hold tight onto my bow. It would be simple fortune that my hands still maintained the strength to pull the string if I ever found a target. I have become less and less reliant on my guns, and with good reason, these mountain ranges breed ghostly echoes that can wake the dead... Literally.
                  For a couple of hours I had been following deer tracks throughout the frozen mountainside with little gain. Their trails zigzagged through and around trees and brush, up and down jagged slopes, and then back across itself. It was like I was walking in circles and the deer were hiding not too far off, reveling at my failed attempts to track them.
                  “Those Bastards!” I cursed.
                  The fear of starving to death is always on my mind these days, and if sustenance continued to elude me, then my fears most definitely would come true. Luckily the snow fall has been somewhat mild compared to normal winters in these mountains. But unfortunately, Mother Nature has undoubtedly refused to ease up on the frigid temperatures, her incessant abuse has no bounds.
                  Slow and with minimal noise I moved further up my mountain as not to draw attention to myself or startle my long anticipated meal. However, my attention was soon drawn to an unusual sound off into the distance. Something had broken the monotonous silence that had been pursuing me all day, something obscured amongst the hardwood.
                  At first I thought it was just the old ghosts of these ancient hills, unusual noises caused by wind and cold against old trees. But, this sound was becoming louder and quite distinct. It was no ghost, there was definitely something up ahead, something I had least expected.
                  Persistently I pushed myself forward, moving painfully up the slope. I longed for a juicy