Winter Wasteland (The Pack)

Chapter 14

Warnings: None

~3rd P.O.V. (As seen from Mitch and Jerome)~

     "So today's the day. The day we will finally all get back together... Hopefully." Mitch breathes, emerging from the mouth of the dark cave.
     Jerome follows suit, stepping into the daylight a second later, "Well if Vikk and Lachlan are here already... Somewhere... And we assume Preston and Rob got the message then there shouldn't be too big of a problem."

     Mitch nods his agreement, dusting off his checkered hoodie. His eyes flicker to Jerome's arm warily, knowing that it's not completely healed. Well it's his funeral. He thinks, sighing inwardly. I hope not literally.

     "Woah Mitch, look at that."

     Mitch turns around and follows Jerome's finger about 500 meters away. There at the base of the mountain massive lumps of snow are scattered in a thick white blanket. Trees in its path are now toppled over, either snapped in half or partly submerged in snow.

     "Good think we didn't get caught up in that." Jerome chuckles, turning away.
     "So... I guess we should get moving then?"
     "Yeah."

     With nothing to lose the two start on their way up the mountain. It's a slow rise at first, the occasional tree growing up from the side of the mountain, and it doesn't not prove a hard task for either Mitch or Jerome. Jerome leads the way, not faltered by the slight uphill trek. His neck is still searing in pain, but his arm is doing much better. Thanks to his fur and coat the arrow did not sink as far into his arm than he had originally thought. And Mitch has now fully recovered from his swim the the river, his core temperature now back up to normal. At least normal in terms of the winter conditions.

After an hour or so, passing a small cluster of trees, Mitch notes that from that point on no trees seem to be growing. The mountain starts to gradually slope upwards, faster than before. And soon enough Jerome finds himself having to use his hands to balance himself so he doesn't fall backwards into Mitch and send them both rolling down the mountain.

"Ugh we aren't even a quarter of the way up yet. My legs are already getting tired." Mitch huffs, pulling himself up onto a ledge.
     "And it looks like from here on out its gonna be mostly ledges." Jerome grunts, wincing as his arm stings when he lifts himself up beside Mitch.

     They walk another couple meters, coming across another ledge, this one reaching just past their heads. Mitch goes first, gripping tightly onto the ledge above and planting his foot in a small foot hold. He pulls with all his strength and pushes upwards with his foot, effectively bringing his chest over the edge. Then he re adjusts his arms, the lower half of his body hanging off the edge, and pushes himself the rest of the way. Jerome approaches the ledge, risking in putting both his good and bad arm up to grip it's rocky edge. Then just as Mitch had done he places a foot against the rocks, preparing to launch himself up. But as soon as he tries to put any sort of weight on his arm the area of the slowly healing wound starts searing. Jerome hisses in pain, removing his injured arm from the rocks. Gonna have to deal with one arm. He acknowledges.

"You need some help Jerome?" Mitch inquires, peeking over the edge at his miserable attempts in hoisting himself up.
"Yeah... That's be great thanks buddy."

Mitch reaches down and Jerome grips onto his hand using his good arm, replacing his foot on the small foot hold.

"Three, two, one, NOW."

Jerome pushes up with great force and Mitch uses his full weight to lean back, continuing to step backwards until Jerome is over the ledge enough to get up himself. Jerome uses his black claws to dig into the earth, kicking his legs to boost himself fully over the edge. Once up he frowns, seeing his once white shirt is now not only stained with blood but dirt as well. He brushes as much dirt as he can off before turning to Mitch.