He trudged through deep snow, his outline barely visible against the backdrop of the tundra as his pale camo-cloak wrapped around his back, laden with heavy equipment piled a foot and a half over his head atop a backpack, each step laboured and attenuated by a weary grunt as his gaze tracked upwards, squinting through the blizzard that whipped the visor of his helmet incessantly, spotting it. A thin slit in the rockface that he knew to hide a deep cave system, one only partially explored the first time he set foot there.
His head dipped towards his chest again as he pressed onwards, the deep cut footprints filling in behind him as he went, the roar of a Qion Tiger barely cutting through the roar of the snowstorm as he began slowly, carefully climbing up to his destination, his muscles ached and throbbed as the harsh winds battered against him, the backpack and gear he carried like a sail, catching it and threatening to toss him off into the canyon below. A pause, a deep breath, a moment to center himself and find the inner strength he needed. He felt his chest ache, the dreadful sensation spreading out to his limbs and burning in his muscles, snarling under his breath as he tensed up and threw out his hand to grab another boulder, hauling himself over it with a loud groan of effort, sliding sideways up over the top and rolling onto his side, impeded by the heavy load as he panted for breath, staring out over the long, partially frozen river meandering down the valley beneath him.
He rolled up onto his knees first and then rose completely, striding towards the mouth of the cave with a renewed vigour, legs pumping quickly now that he was out of the deepest snow. He slipped off his backpack and maneuvered it with himself sideways through the narrow gap in the rock, feeling an almost immediate relief wash over him as a feeling of safety crept into him, lifting his pack and descending further into the blackness, opening the visor of his helmet up as his red eyes shone brightly in the abyss.
After wandering for twenty, thirty minutes through the dark corridors of ice he finally turned right into an open cavern with the sun shining through the thin ice of the ceiling, casting a weird light upon the entire chamber that glimmered and shifted constantly. He precariously moved across an ice-slick bridge across a gorge below where the ceiling was thawing through, the drip having formed a treacherous hazard in his path. Half way he felt himself slip, sucking a breath and at once pushing off with his other foot, dancing a few steps along the crossing point and sliding off the other side, falling to the ground with his top-heavy pack throwing him off balance, letting out an involuntary grunt as he thudded on the cold stone floor, twisting and pushing himself back up and ascending again out of the lit-cavern into a dead end chamber, barely touched by the light of the sun. He let out a deep sigh and wrestled his backpack off, dropping it to the ground with a metallic clang as the equipment tied to the top of it rattled and clanked against itself. He began to unpack.
As the days past he built up his camp using that which he had brought with him. Enough prefabs and components to put together a portable heater to warm the living space, keeping the worst of the ice and glacial drip at bay. The flooring he had procured on day two after a short venture outside, wooded boards to level the cave floor and make movement safer, sleeping less unpleasant. A relatively simple device for converting snow and ice to drinking water was built, taking him back to his younger years, before the prosperity that came from the expansion of the colonies and the resource wealth that came with them. Before the wars he waged in the Ascendancy’s name. It didn’t take long before he had constructed a well-to-do home for himself, with plenty of space to move around, a bed, a workbench. Perfection.
He took a moment to rest, lying on his hard back as he rolled over out of the throbbing orange glow of the portable heater and reached into his jacket, slipping a photograph of a Chiss woman with long, raven black hair out of an inside pocket and brushing his thumb over her face as he cradled it within his palm, staring for perhaps a while overlong before putting it away again with a deep sigh.
Tomorrow, training began.
