The One

ONE

He could hear the hairs in his ears freeze, snow flakes sticking to his lashes, blast.
The temperature was taking a dive.
" Damnit, snow too? " he grunted as he pulled on the large body.

He had done a wonderful hunt.
He had brought down a Mozer, a gigantic ox like animal.
His brother would never believe him!

But he hadn't considered how he was going to bring it home, down the mountain.

He had downright destroyed a cluster of trees and made a perfectly fine pulling sled.
Three, actually, the Mozer had proven too heavy for the previous two and had simply cracked through them in mere seconds.

He sighed, wiped his forehead and rubbed his nose with his freezing fingers.
His gloves had really only been in the way through this whole ordeal,
but now he had gone and lost them.

Like the professional hunter he was!

He pushed on the Mozer and cursed, the thing had now become stiff.
Rigor Mortis? Maybe, might just be freezing.
With a growl of effort he managed to partly roll it and then it refused.

He was stuck, one shoulder under the beast.
Was it caught on something? It felt like it.

He stood there, a good 5 minutes, grunting and fidgeting.
Trying to shift in a way that allowed him to see what was going on.

He cursed as he spotted it.

The Mozer had been happily bleeding on the mountain.
No problem there, but it had gotten cold enough for the blood to freeze.
The Mozer's fur was now solidly part of the mountain.

"Great! Great! Great! "

He growled, trying to see if his neck could take the weight of the creature, so he could free up both arms to feel for his knife.

Not there, gone, missing in action.

He grunted, trying to look around. He had just had it!
He indeed had, he spotted it a small step away, on the floor.
It might as well be on the other side of the freaking mountain!

He stood there, trying to reach his knife with his foot...
a frozen Mozer balancing on his head and neck, snorting like a Mozer himself, in effort.

"What in the world are you doing?" Came an amused voice that he recognized as his brother.

Great.

Every time he managed to do something impressive or did something rather 'cool' his brother had to somehow catch him in a moment of failure.
Or he himself did something to completely ruin it the moment he showed up.

"What am I doing?" He said, winching, "Obviously I'm trying to get this Mozer home with the least amount of effort. So naturally it has become... "

"You've become stuck?" His brother asked, studying the scene before him.

Morten stopped his attempt to get his knife, dropped his arms next to him and sighed.
He looked like a strange pillar under, what could only be described as, a Mozer roof.

"Help me?" He said quietly.
He just swung his arm in the direction where the fur had become frozen to the surface.

His brother stepped into view now,
"Ah, doesn't want to let go of the mountain?" He smiled.

Morten grunted in agreement and pain, that was really starting to creep up in his neck and spine.

His brother was the Chief of their people, a big man. Marked with tattoos of all kinds.
Symbols of hunts, feats and adventures he had been on. All done in red and blues, the colors he had been given at birth, cool colors and two!