The Wolf and the Unicorn

                Author’s foreword:  If anyone has questions about Arctic weather/survival/whatever feel free to ask in the comments and I’ll try to get back to you on it.   This is all stuff I’ve learned in my 26 years of living in the northern reaches of Alaska.  The Arctic Circle is 100(ish) miles from where I live, and I hunt fairly close to there.  The average winter temps in dec-feb are -40f to -80f at my house.

The wind chill tore into me as I crossed the frozen tundra, hoping to find shelter near the edge of a creek, barely visible through the howling snow.   It would be better to find cover there, than staying on the frozen but soggy tiaga that currently impeded my progress.  Step by step, my paws found purchase on the frozen ground.  The sensation of frozen lichen snapping off the buried rocks was strange at the very least.  Soon enough, the creek was within reach.

Knowing a fire was impossible in weather like this, I did the only thing possible.  I inched myself down the steep incline toward the frozen ice, pushing snow down the slope with my paws as I went.  My face stung as some of the granules were flung back at me as I crawled.  The lower I got into the channel, the less the wind bit and clawed at me, turning from a banshee’s wail into a simple zombie’s moan.  A large pile of snow finally built at my feet.  It slowly was kicked into the shape of a lumpy windblown wall.  My pack quickly joined the snow as it was shrugged off my shoulders and pushed into the wall to support it.  Trying to make myself flat as possible, I lay down behind my pack and wrapped my cloak around me.

                “Not this shit again…”

                With the screaming cold rendered down to a damn chill, getting to sleep was going to be rough, if not impossible.  Time for a trick that I had used a few times to stay warm on this journey.  It wasn’t fun and it made magic difficult for a day or so, but it had been the difference between life and death.   My gloved hands dug into my pockets, feeling for a round, golf ball shaped stone.  Even through my gloves I could feel the warmth coming off of it.  In my mind, I could still see the round chunk of jasper that I discovered in a cave that I took shelter for a night.

                The stone felt rough, even though my gloves, but the small amount of heat it put out was worth it either way.  I closed my eyes, slowly tuning out the noises of the wind and snow, leaving only the feeling of the stone in my hand.  Its warmth, the texture of it through my gloves, the small spark of energy buried deep within it.   Little by little, I fed energy to the kindling in the stone, slowly feeling it take hold.  Warm turned to hot, which soon turned into angry red heat that soaked through my gloves and flowed over me like a rising tide.  Soon enough, my aches, pains, even the former chill of my icy prison faded away, and I was pulled into a dreamless sleep.

                Morning came too early, but impossible to resist either.  As the rising sun peered over the frosted horizon, the frozen wasteland exploded in showers of color.  The snow and ice magnifying and splitting the colors of the sun until everything had a golden hue.  As I stirred, the thin veil of ice and snow over my cloak could be heard cracking and shifting, as if some monster came from below.  In some religions they would be right.

                Quickly I collected my pack and headed out toward the trees.  The sooner I could find firewood, the sooner I can cook and eat.

                Several hours later, I was what I assumed was 2/3 of the way to the forest.  The closer to the trees I got, the larger one of the trees in the distance appeared.  The thing would have to be absolutely massive, and it quickly turned into my goal for shelter and survival for the next week or so.   A forest that dense would have an abundance of wildlife.  That just spelled dinner to me.

                In the snow ahead, I spotted a small game trail.  Worn deep into the snow by what was probably one or two deer sized animals following the same path over and over.  After a moment of looking at the prints, I realized they looked familiar, but I could not place why.  Either way, that meant more meat to collect and cook later.  I am a big fan of living longer by not starving to death.  With a slight alteration to my path, I began to jog down the trail toward the edge of the forest.

                Soon enough, the sun was beginning to go down again.  It was the curse of the arctic.  During the winter you only had a few hours of sunlight, and even then it could be bitterly cold.  Knowing I had to find shelter, I kept my eyes out for anything that would do.  Off the trail there was a large indentation that looked to be between some rocks that would do perfectly.   As I stepped away from the trail, I dropped into waist deep snow.  I could feel it wrapping around me, trying to get into any crevice in my clothes, almost like a wild animal seeking to be warm.

                After a half hour of slowly shoving my way through the icy hell, I reached the rocks.  The closer I looked, the less they seemed like rocks and more like a collapsed wall.  That was a point quickly driven home as I tripped on a section buried in the snow and quickly went under myself.  I could feel my paws slipping against the ground.  Ground that felt a lot like wood now that I paid attention to it.  With the thought of a fire fueling my actions, I began to dig.  With my hands at first, then I remembered my shovel.  With numb fingers, I set to work digging out the remains of whatever this building used to be.

                Soon enough, the snow was mostly outside the remaining walls and I had cleared away a nice section within.  Someone had been looking out for me this day.  In a corner under a collapsed section I found a small stack of dry wood and kindling.  It would only last a night, but a night with a fire was better than nothing at all.  Not to mention it would give me an easier way to recharge the jasper that had saved me so many times before.

                With my back in the corner of the rocky walls, I set about making a fire.  It would be visible for miles as the clouds had begun to clear, and dearest Luna was going to be gifting the world with another beautiful night.  On a small pile of tinder and shavings from one of the dry logs, I placed the chunk of jasper, quickly followed by more tinder to make a birds nest shape.  After a few moments, the tinder started to smoke.  The smoke quickly turned into small flames which I fed, little by little until small snapping noises and a low rumble came from the fire.  That was the time to place the larger logs into a teepee shape above it all.

                Eventually, the fire was roaring and pushing the chill out of every bit of me.  The feeling of being warm was indescribable after being in the cold for so long.  The only thing that would be better would be a hot meal, and that was started quickly as I stabbed a chunk of frozen meat with one of my skinning knives and held it to the fire.  This was going to be delicious.

As the hours passed, I dozed idly by the fire, slowly feeding it wood and enjoying the sensation of heat.  Basking in it really.  Eventually,  my mind began to drift back to my new home and those I had left behind on this insane assignment.  I hoped they were doing okay and nothing had befallen them while I was away.  At this rate, it would be some time yet before I was home.

                With those thoughts, sleep overtook me, and for the first night in a long time, I began to dream.   In those dreams, I spoke to Luna about many things, how much I missed her, what had gone on in my absence, and how little I had learned.

                All of this ended abruptly as I felt the sensation of icy cold steel against my throat.  As my eyes shot open, all I could see were armed shadows standing over me.

                “Fuck.”