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Description
Trudge, trudge. Boots hit the ground and dug into the cold earth. A figure climbed slowly up the side of the mountain with grim determination, holding his coat as close to him as possible, as the chilling wind blasted around him, swirling snow in circles. He continued climbing and the steepness of the ground lessened, revealing a log cabin ahead of him. He had climbed this mountain because he wanted to test himself, to see how long he could survive. He grunted in satisfaction, his breath freezing in front of his face. This would be a good place to spend a few nights.

Steve opened the doors and walked in, closing them behind him quickly as the cold forced itself in. He sat down on an old couch and deposited his backpack beside him, looking around him. It hadn’t changed that much since he’d last found it years ago. The pictures were still there, and the furniture was in good condition. He rubbed his hands together as he thought of what he would do next. The best move would probably be to check for any provisions left behind before he completely secured the building for the night. He puffed on his hands, and, sure that they were warm, walked around looking in all of the cupboards and storage spaces that might contain food. He found a packet of dried biscuits and a disintegrated rind of meat. Besides that and some cups for water, there was nothing good to be seen. No matter. He’d made sure to bring enough provisions to last three days, and packaged meat and thermoses of soup would keep him warm and satisfied.
The wind howled through the windows in the loft, reminding him that he still had more to do before he settled down. He climbed up a creaky metal ladder to the second level, and pulled the windows tightly shut, locking them one by one to ensure they would stay shut. With a shiver, he hopped down to the ground floor and unpacked his supplies. Bundling himself in a warm blue blanket, he hurriedly prepared dinner. He unscrewed a thermos lid and took a big gulp of chicken noodle soup, taking bites of a sandwich as he drank.
“Ah, that hits the spot. Just what I needed on a night like this.” He continued with another sandwich and finished off with some dried biscuits.
“Good food for the first night,” he said appreciatively. “There’s nothing to do right now, so I’d better go to sleep. I need to be ready for the next day.” He extinguished the oil lamps on the walls and stumbled onto the couch. Before the smoke had dissipated, he was asleep. The wind howled wildly outside, but was unable to wake him.

Steve felt himself returning from a deep, dark place, and waited a few moments as his mind regained its presence. He struggled to open his eyes, and after several efforts managed to prop one open. He sat up on the couch and blinked blearily. What time was it? He didn’t think he’d be awake until hours after dawn. An uneven sound drifted through the oak doors, and it took a few moments for him to think that it might be something important. He stood up and shuffled to the doors, glancing at the frosty windows to the frozen landscape beyond. He couldn’t see anything. He looked around more slowly, staring at one snow mound at a time. In the distance, shapes moved behind a snowy hill. He recognized the noises now. The baying of wolves! They were approaching the cabin now. Quickly, he checked the locks. They were still secure. He relaxed a little, but his mental tension remained. They ran towards the log cabin and surrounded the door, barking savagely.
“Why are they here?” he wondered. “And how could they find me in this storm?” He looked out the windows once again for any clue to this. In front of the doors, his hour-old footprints were just barely visible in the snow.
“They couldn’t have followed me here just with those. Even a wolf would have trouble finding a trail in this weather.” He looked around the cabin, and glanced at the windows. He stared at the window to the left. Upon closer examination, it was clear that it was ajar.
“Oh no. I left this window open,” he realized. “They probably smelled the food from miles away, and came here.”
He was unsure what to do next. He looked around the room, hoping for a solution, a weapon perhaps, but there was nothing he could use. The pile of food was still spread out over the floor, steam from the hot dishes wafting through the air. He noticed a steak, giving off savory fumes, right in the middle. He had an idea.
“What if I used this for something? I could throw it out the window and hope they’ll follow it.” He picked it up with one hand, and opened the window. He peered out at the wolves still baying in front of the cabin.
“Hey! Do you want this?” he called out to them. The wolves turned and started barking in his direction. Steve waved the steak in front of them.
“Here you go!” he yelled, and threw the slab of meat with all his might away from the cabin. It hit the snow and started rolling down the side of the mountain. The wolves turned and followed it madly, disappearing into the night.
“Phew. That’s that over.” He shut the window tight and turned back to his own bed. “Maybe now I can finally get some sleep.” He snuggled into his blankets cozily, and was soon asleep again.

Three hours later, he awoke again. The sun was up in the sky. Steve groaned and rolled over, then pushed his covers back.
“Well, I’ve got to get up now. It’s time to be getting on with the rest.” He sat up and changed clothes. After stretching and clearing up the mess of the last night, he prepared a bowl of cereal and some soup.
“I hope the wolves didn’t come back,” he said, looking out the window for a sign of them as he ate his cereal. There was nothing to be seen.
“Good,” he quipped, and moved on to his soup. “Because I’ve got another day of waiting to do, and I don’t want to see them coming here for another few nights. They should stay where they are, like good little doggies.” He polished off the last of his noodles, and made his bed.
“Now it’s time to be getting out, and seeing what I can do on this mountain to while away the time before tonight.” He adjusted the windows again, and checked his food supply to ensure it would last. But there was something amiss. Steve looked through his packages, and there wasn’t as much food as he’d hoped there was.
“Oh, right! I threw out all that steak to the wolves!” Steve regretted doing anything like this, but there had been no other choice when he was trapped with just a wall between them. He sighed. “I won’t be able to eat enough to stay here for two days. I’ve got to leave before tomorrow, or else I won’t make it down the mountain.” He got up and started gathering his belongings. His blankets and bedclothes were rolled up and placed into his backpack. He was gathering his food items when he stopped suddenly.
“Wait a minute,” he said slowly, “I don’t have to do this. I can stay here and not leave until tomorrow! That’s what a true survivor would do! Yeah!” And so he unpacked all his supplies, with renewed hope for his survival, even with the wolves on the mountain.
He put on his coat and hat and went outside, braving the cold with a determined smile on his face. He wasn’t going to turn back. He was going to triumph over all of these problems, and that would prove he could survive. He wandered around the mountain for the rest of the day, taking in all of its natural features, from the snowy ground crunching beneath his feet to the cold blocks of perma-ice anchored at its summit. As dusk arrived, he returned to the cabin and watched the sunset from inside. He opened a thermos of soup and drank spoonfuls of it, contemplating the dusk with a small glow of satisfaction. He only had one day left before his trip was over, and then he was home free.
He settled down in his bed and drifted off to a world of sleep. He was rudely awakened by barking. Steve sat up in his bed, looking around to see if the familiar sound was coming from a wolf in his room. There were none inside, thankfully, but the chorus of barking told him that they were as close as they could be.
“I suppose the steak I gave them wasn’t good enough for more than a day. Oh well,” he sighed, and looked worriedly out at the wolves. They were working themselves up to a frenzy, and they would eventually break through the door if they continued uninterrupted.
“I’ll have to do something about this,” Steve intoned. The final sound of his own voice gave him the courage to think of looking for a weapon to use. He looked in all the nooks and crannies of the room, but there was nothing hard or heavy enough. He opened a chest in a corner, and found an old pickaxe. It would be good enough. Steve gathered his coat around him, and readied himself to open the door. He grasped the handle of his pickaxe, and then the handle of the door, and threw it open. At once, the wolves ran baying into the lodge, surrounding him and starting to nip. He attacked quickly, swinging his pickaxe mercilessly at their faces as they tried to bite him from the front and behind. He felled one, and two, but the wolves kept biting at his legs and causing him serious pain. He hammered at them, some getting up again to attack him from another side, panting as heavily as he was. But after several blows each, the wolves stopped getting up and lay there whining. Steve finished off the last few and watched them hit the ground, twitching for a few moments.
After he saw that none of them were getting up again, he collapsed on the floor, his pickaxe falling out of his hands as he sat there gasping. He held his hand to his arm, pressing it against a bite, and noticed more on his legs. He took off his shirt and pants as blood started seeping out of his limbs. He tore up his shirt for rags to bind his arms and legs with, before the bleeding grew too intense. He counted seven injuries in all, two on his arms and three major ones on his legs, and two smaller ones at his heels. He tightened the cloths around each of them, and sat for several minutes watching the red seep through his former clothes.
After twenty minutes, he rolled over and got onto his knees, and tried to sit on the bed. He pulled himself unsteadily onto it and searched in his bag for the medical case. There was antiseptic and proper bandages, but it was too late to apply them now, with the wounds already long opened. He picked up a food can and ate some anchovies, and drank a little soup to calm his nerves. He’d survived this, and all he had to do was wait until tomorrow to get out. He sat there for another hour, eating more food until he felt steady again.
He sat up straighter and looked across the room at the wolves, still lying prone on the floor. He had to move them or else they’d start to stink. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing his weight onto his legs. He winced. The injuries were not light ones, and would take several weeks to recover from. Pushing himself up with his arms, he managed to get onto his feet and shuffle across the room, dealing with the pain. He bent down and got onto his knees to grab hold of a wolf, and tried to lift himself up. His wounds burned like fire. He gritted his teeth and surged upwards, dragging the wolf’s body across the room and throwing it into the night. He repeated this until the rest of the wolves were also outside, and closed the doors on them. He shuffled to bed and fell into it, his pain following him into sleep.

A howl resounded through the night. Steve opened his eyes. The light of the moon shone through the window as he turned his head to look through it. There was a wolf out there. He got up and hobbled to the window, gripping the window sill. Despite the clouds covering most of the sky, it was light enough to see the hills below him. Another pack of wolves wove their way towards his cabin, their backs shining silver in the moonlight. There were at least eight wolves there, too many for him to be able to deal with, especially now that he was injured.
“Oh god, what am I going to do? I can’t deal with those,” Steve said softly, tearing up a little. He looked around, seeing the supplies, the furniture, the medical box and the pickaxe laying where he’d left them, and the double doors with their small locks.
“I’ve got to stop them from coming in. Those locks won’t help me for long.” Steve fixed his gaze on the couch, just the right size to block the doors with. He got up and positioned himself behind it, and gripped the frame. A big push moved it a foot towards the door, and another one moved it closer. With a lot of effort, he managed to push the couch all the way in front of the doors. He made sure it was wedged in, and sank down on it to rest.
“Phew. Now I need to find another way out of here.” He checked the log cabin for another exit, but it still had only the front doors and the windows. He wasn’t going to try to jump out a window, because it was even worse than going out the front doors. Even if the fall didn’t break his already weakened legs, the wolves would be on him sooner than he could roll away. He was trapped in here, for who knows how long.
Unless... he was able to do something with his pickaxe. An escape attempt. Steve had heard of pickaxes being commonly used to dig tunnels through dirt and stone, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to do it now. Well, he couldn’t do anything else. He might as well try it and see what happened.
He moved over to the pickaxe and picked it up, testing it on the dirt floor. It seemed alright. He hefted it above his head, and brought it swinging down. It went through the first few inches. Encouraged, he did it again and again, making his way through three feet before he was tired. He brushed away the dirt and had a swig of water from his canteen. The wolves were still howling outside the doors of the log cabin, and it didn’t seem like they were going to stop until they’d found him. Steve doubled his efforts, and soon had a sloping tunnel through the dirt. He dug a few more inches, and struck something hard. He brushed away the dirt to find stone.
“So, this is the main part of the mountain. I’ve got to mine through this to get out.” He rubbed his hands and gripped his pickaxe tighter, and swung it at high speed. Crack. The tip had gone right through the surface easier than he’d expected. Maybe he was getting better at this.
“Hmph. I can get through this, easy.” He smashed the pickaxe through the hard stone, moving fragments away with his feet. He was tunneling even deeper, just to be on the safe side. After going through two more feet, he stopped to rest, wiping the sweat from his forehead and taking a drink of water.
“Phew”, he exhaled, “this is still hard for me to do. And I don’t know how much further I’ll be able to go with these injured arms and legs.” He pulled out a soup canteen from his bag and downed a few mouthfuls.
“It’s got to be coming to the end of the night by now. I’ve been digging for at least two hours.” He went back up to the windows and looked at the sky. It was still purple, meaning dawn was hours away.
“Dammit. I’m getting tired of this.” He shifted his backpack to his left shoulder, and descended into his tunnel again.

Outside, the wolves were still howling as they tried to enter the log cabin. They’d smelled their dead comrades late the previous day, and had come to see what had happened. At night, they’d reached Steve’s log cabin and found their dead bodies thrown outside of its doors. Their blood boiled, and they yammered in distress, vowing vengeance for the lives of their slain fellows. They’d surrounded the doors, barking as they tried to find a way in. On seeing that the doors moved a little bit under pressure, they’d concentrated all their efforts to getting in through there. After attacking the door for a few hours and clawing at the windows, they’d calmed down and decided to wait for their prey to come out and be eaten. Four hours after arriving, and they’d not seen anything happen in the log cabin. The creature inside had disappeared.

Steve was still digging inside, trying to get through another few feet before he had to rest for the night. His arms felt like lead, and he was having trouble staying on his feet. After extending his escape a total of 8 feet, he was at the end of his rope. A few more strikes were all he could do, and he promptly lay down next to his pickaxe and slept.

Six hours later, the next morning had fully dawned, and Steve was still asleep. He mumbled as the sound of the wolves’ howling echoed through the tunnel he’d made, and turned over, hitting his head on a rock. He woke up, and remembered where he was.
“Shoot. The wolves might be almost through by now.” He got up and walked through the tunnel and into the above room. They hadn’t quite made it through the door yet, but the couch was moved far enough that he could see the head of one poking through the door. He went over and kicked it in the face, and slammed the door shut. The locks had been forced open by their long hours of pushing, and he couldn’t close the door again easily. Fending off the wolves as they poked their heads through the entrance, he grabbed the couch and heaved it back into place.
“They should be almost tired out too. God help me if I have to spend twelve more hours digging here.” But it seemed that they had more energy left than that, and they were still trying to get into the cabin.
“Darn it. Get off, leave me alone, wolves. I don’t have time for this.” He sighed and went to the bathroom, and emerged a little more relieved.
“Now let’s get going,” he said again, hefting his pickaxe as he headed wearily into the tunnel. He struck through the stone carefully, but with half of the vigor of last night. He channeled two more feet into the rock before stopping for a break, and sighed.
“When will I ever get through this rock? I’ll probably die first.” With this bright opportunism, he rounded on the end of the tunnel again and began digging. Two hours and a foot and a half later, he heard something. He listened carefully, but there was no sound this time. He tapped the stone with his pickaxe. A faint thump sounded from the other side of the stone.
“A cave? That’s weird, it’s pretty high up.” He tapped the surface again, and he heard the distinctly hollow sound. “Yep, that’s definitely a cave. But what am I going to do about it? It might have an exit, or it might go straight down into the mountain.” He considered for a few moments, then broke through the wall. He cleared away the rest of the stone, and lifted an oil lamp to look around. It was big for a self-contained cave, and there were stalactites hanging down from the ceiling twenty feet up. Steve moved a few steps forward, but couldn’t see the edges of the cavern. He held on tightly to his bag of supplies, and examined the sounds of the area. There were dripping noises from the stalactites, and he could just barely see droplets of water falling at regular intervals from their tips. There was also a second water noise, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He walked forwards, and splashed a foot into water.
“Argh.” He took his foot out of the water and set it back on dry land. Now that he looked closer, he could see that most of the cave’s floor was submerged in water. There were stalagmites sticking up out of the water like islands, some even making little land masses. He heard a sound that didn’t sound like water. It was faint, and came from the far left corner of the cavern. Here it was again. A groan. Steve held his lamp out towards the sound, and could make out a shape in the darkness. There was a short hiss from the right side of the cave. Eyes flashed in the light from his lamp. Steve felt himself shiver. There was a clacking noise from the left corner of the cave. Steve turned, and found on an island in the water a pile of bones. They clacked again, and the jaw of a skull moved. Not a pile of bones, a whole skeleton. And it was somehow alive. More groans and hisses came from the far side of the room, and Steve saw figures moving slowly toward him from various islands. It was a trap.
Steve panicked. He had to get out of here, but the way back was blocked by wolves. He shone his lamp around the walls, and found a small crevice to the right. He looked into it, and the end wasn’t totally dark. He stepped into it, but couldn’t help looking back at the horrors in the cave. They were on dry ground now, and he could see their shapes as they moved toward him. One was walking unevenly toward him, and seemed to be human-like, but as Steve looked at its face he knew it was inhuman. Green, peeling skin and red eyes, with decay covering most of the visible flesh, he could see it was a zombie. Farther back to its left, there was the skeleton, walking like an automaton as its joints clanked together. It stared at him with hollow eyes, and Steve knew it would never stop until it got him.
A hiss came from his right, and he started as he saw the eyes from before. They belonged to a green creature with mottled skin and four stumpy legs that was crawling toward him. Its eyes flashed at him as it began to hiss violently. Steve threw himself down the passage without looking back till he was twenty feet away, and saw the green thing coming directly behind him. He gasped, and it stopped in front of him as its eyes flashed red, and began to hiss again. It began to shake, and Steve moved backwards as it stared at him with the terror of death on its face. He was almost away when its hissing grew unbearable and it exploded violently on him, throwing him like a rag doll down the rest of the passage. He hit the wall, and fell down a chute into the darkness.

Steve woke up hours later to find himself on the bank of a stream next to the mountain. He followed it up the mountain with his eyes. It came from high up, from a cave mouth fifty feet from the top, and churned down to where he was now. He felt his body, and relieved that nothing was broken, jumped with joy at being alive. He’d made it out of the cavern, and he was safe. He followed the stream the rest of the way down the mountain, and didn’t look back until he was far away. He was glad to have escaped, and didn’t come back again.

Description
Trudge, trudge. Boots hit the ground and dug into the cold earth. A figure climbed slowly up the side of the mountain with grim determination, holding his coat as close to him as possible, as the chilling wind blasted around him, swirling snow in circles. He continued climbing and the steepness of the ground lessened, revealing a log cabin ahead of him. He had climbed this mountain because he wanted to test himself, to see how long he could survive. He grunted in satisfaction, his breath freezing in front of his face. This would be a good place to spend a few nights.

Steve opened the doors and walked in, closing them behind him quickly as the cold forced itself in. He sat down on an old couch and deposited his backpack beside him, looking around him. It hadn’t changed that much since he’d last found it years ago. The pictures were still there, and the furniture was in good condition. He rubbed his hands together as he thought of what he would do next. The best move would probably be to check for any provisions left behind before he completely secured the building for the night. He puffed on his hands, and, sure that they were warm, walked around looking in all of the cupboards and storage spaces that might contain food. He found a packet of dried biscuits and a disintegrated rind of meat. Besides that and some cups for water, there was nothing good to be seen. No matter. He’d made sure to bring enough provisions to last three days, and packaged meat and thermoses of soup would keep him warm and satisfied.
The wind howled through the windows in the loft, reminding him that he still had more to do before he settled down. He climbed up a creaky metal ladder to the second level, and pulled the windows tightly shut, locking them one by one to ensure they would stay shut. With a shiver, he hopped down to the ground floor and unpacked his supplies. Bundling himself in a warm blue blanket, he hurriedly prepared dinner. He unscrewed a thermos lid and took a big gulp of chicken noodle soup, taking bites of a sandwich as he drank.
“Ah, that hits the spot. Just what I needed on a night like this.” He continued with another sandwich and finished off with some dried biscuits.
“Good food for the first night,” he said appreciatively. “There’s nothing to do right now, so I’d better go to sleep. I need to be ready for the next day.” He extinguished the oil lamps on the walls and stumbled onto the couch. Before the smoke had dissipated, he was asleep. The wind howled wildly outside, but was unable to wake him.

Steve felt himself returning from a deep, dark place, and waited a few moments as his mind regained its presence. He struggled to open his eyes, and after several efforts managed to prop one open. He sat up on the couch and blinked blearily. What time was it? He didn’t think he’d be awake until hours after dawn. An uneven sound drifted through the oak doors, and it took a few moments for him to think that it might be something important. He stood up and shuffled to the doors, glancing at the frosty windows to the frozen landscape beyond. He couldn’t see anything. He looked around more slowly, staring at one snow mound at a time. In the distance, shapes moved behind a snowy hill. He recognized the noises now. The baying of wolves! They were approaching the cabin now. Quickly, he checked the locks. They were still secure. He relaxed a little, but his mental tension remained. They ran towards the log cabin and surrounded the door, barking savagely.
“Why are they here?” he wondered. “And how could they find me in this storm?” He looked out the windows once again for any clue to this. In front of the doors, his hour-old footprints were just barely visible in the snow.
“They couldn’t have followed me here just with those. Even a wolf would have trouble finding a trail in this weather.” He looked around the cabin, and glanced at the windows. He stared at the window to the left. Upon closer examination, it was clear that it was ajar.
“Oh no. I left this window open,” he realized. “They probably smelled the food from miles away, and came here.”
He was unsure what to do next. He looked around the room, hoping for a solution, a weapon perhaps, but there was nothing he could use. The pile of food was still spread out over the floor, steam from the hot dishes wafting through the air. He noticed a steak, giving off savory fumes, right in the middle. He had an idea.
“What if I used this for something? I could throw it out the window and hope they’ll follow it.” He picked it up with one hand, and opened the window. He peered out at the wolves still baying in front of the cabin.
“Hey! Do you want this?” he called out to them. The wolves turned and started barking in his direction. Steve waved the steak in front of them.
“Here you go!” he yelled, and threw the slab of meat with all his might away from the cabin. It hit the snow and started rolling down the side of the mountain. The wolves turned and followed it madly, disappearing into the night.
“Phew. That’s that over.” He shut the window tight and turned back to his own bed. “Maybe now I can finally get some sleep.” He snuggled into his blankets cozily, and was soon asleep again.

Three hours later, he awoke again. The sun was up in the sky. Steve groaned and rolled over, then pushed his covers back.
“Well, I’ve got to get up now. It’s time to be getting on with the rest.” He sat up and changed clothes. After stretching and clearing up the mess of the last night, he prepared a bowl of cereal and some soup.
“I hope the wolves didn’t come back,” he said, looking out the window for a sign of them as he ate his cereal. There was nothing to be seen.
“Good,” he quipped, and moved on to his soup. “Because I’ve got another day of waiting to do, and I don’t want to see them coming here for another few nights. They should stay where they are, like good little doggies.” He polished off the last of his noodles, and made his bed.
“Now it’s time to be getting out, and seeing what I can do on this mountain to while away the time before tonight.” He adjusted the windows again, and checked his food supply to ensure it would last. But there was something amiss. Steve looked through his packages, and there wasn’t as much food as he’d hoped there was.
“Oh, right! I threw out all that steak to the wolves!” Steve regretted doing anything like this, but there had been no other choice when he was trapped with just a wall between them. He sighed. “I won’t be able to eat enough to stay here for two days. I’ve got to leave before tomorrow, or else I won’t make it down the mountain.” He got up and started gathering his belongings. His blankets and bedclothes were rolled up and placed into his backpack. He was gathering his food items when he stopped suddenly.
“Wait a minute,” he said slowly, “I don’t have to do this. I can stay here and not leave until tomorrow! That’s what a true survivor would do! Yeah!” And so he unpacked all his supplies, with renewed hope for his survival, even with the wolves on the mountain.
He put on his coat and hat and went outside, braving the cold with a determined smile on his face. He wasn’t going to turn back. He was going to triumph over all of these problems, and that would prove he could survive. He wandered around the mountain for the rest of the day, taking in all of its natural features, from the snowy ground crunching beneath his feet to the cold blocks of perma-ice anchored at its summit. As dusk arrived, he returned to the cabin and watched the sunset from inside. He opened a thermos of soup and drank spoonfuls of it, contemplating the dusk with a small glow of satisfaction. He only had one day left before his trip was over, and then he was home free.
He settled down in his bed and drifted off to a world of sleep. He was rudely awakened by barking. Steve sat up in his bed, looking around to see if the familiar sound was coming from a wolf in his room. There were none inside, thankfully, but the chorus of barking told him that they were as close as they could be.
“I suppose the steak I gave them wasn’t good enough for more than a day. Oh well,” he sighed, and looked worriedly out at the wolves. They were working themselves up to a frenzy, and they would eventually break through the door if they continued uninterrupted.
“I’ll have to do something about this,” Steve intoned. The final sound of his own voice gave him the courage to think of looking for a weapon to use. He looked in all the nooks and crannies of the room, but there was nothing hard or heavy enough. He opened a chest in a corner, and found an old pickaxe. It would be good enough. Steve gathered his coat around him, and readied himself to open the door. He grasped the handle of his pickaxe, and then the handle of the door, and threw it open. At once, the wolves ran baying into the lodge, surrounding him and starting to nip. He attacked quickly, swinging his pickaxe mercilessly at their faces as they tried to bite him from the front and behind. He felled one, and two, but the wolves kept biting at his legs and causing him serious pain. He hammered at them, some getting up again to attack him from another side, panting as heavily as he was. But after several blows each, the wolves stopped getting up and lay there whining. Steve finished off the last few and watched them hit the ground, twitching for a few moments.
After he saw that none of them were getting up again, he collapsed on the floor, his pickaxe falling out of his hands as he sat there gasping. He held his hand to his arm, pressing it against a bite, and noticed more on his legs. He took off his shirt and pants as blood started seeping out of his limbs. He tore up his shirt for rags to bind his arms and legs with, before the bleeding grew too intense. He counted seven injuries in all, two on his arms and three major ones on his legs, and two smaller ones at his heels. He tightened the cloths around each of them, and sat for several minutes watching the red seep through his former clothes.
After twenty minutes, he rolled over and got onto his knees, and tried to sit on the bed. He pulled himself unsteadily onto it and searched in his bag for the medical case. There was antiseptic and proper bandages, but it was too late to apply them now, with the wounds already long opened. He picked up a food can and ate some anchovies, and drank a little soup to calm his nerves. He’d survived this, and all he had to do was wait until tomorrow to get out. He sat there for another hour, eating more food until he felt steady again.
He sat up straighter and looked across the room at the wolves, still lying prone on the floor. He had to move them or else they’d start to stink. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing his weight onto his legs. He winced. The injuries were not light ones, and would take several weeks to recover from. Pushing himself up with his arms, he managed to get onto his feet and shuffle across the room, dealing with the pain. He bent down and got onto his knees to grab hold of a wolf, and tried to lift himself up. His wounds burned like fire. He gritted his teeth and surged upwards, dragging the wolf’s body across the room and throwing it into the night. He repeated this until the rest of the wolves were also outside, and closed the doors on them. He shuffled to bed and fell into it, his pain following him into sleep.

A howl resounded through the night. Steve opened his eyes. The light of the moon shone through the window as he turned his head to look through it. There was a wolf out there. He got up and hobbled to the window, gripping the window sill. Despite the clouds covering most of the sky, it was light enough to see the hills below him. Another pack of wolves wove their way towards his cabin, their backs shining silver in the moonlight. There were at least eight wolves there, too many for him to be able to deal with, especially now that he was injured.
“Oh god, what am I going to do? I can’t deal with those,” Steve said softly, tearing up a little. He looked around, seeing the supplies, the furniture, the medical box and the pickaxe laying where he’d left them, and the double doors with their small locks.
“I’ve got to stop them from coming in. Those locks won’t help me for long.” Steve fixed his gaze on the couch, just the right size to block the doors with. He got up and positioned himself behind it, and gripped the frame. A big push moved it a foot towards the door, and another one moved it closer. With a lot of effort, he managed to push the couch all the way in front of the doors. He made sure it was wedged in, and sank down on it to rest.
“Phew. Now I need to find another way out of here.” He checked the log cabin for another exit, but it still had only the front doors and the windows. He wasn’t going to try to jump out a window, because it was even worse than going out the front doors. Even if the fall didn’t break his already weakened legs, the wolves would be on him sooner than he could roll away. He was trapped in here, for who knows how long.
Unless... he was able to do something with his pickaxe. An escape attempt. Steve had heard of pickaxes being commonly used to dig tunnels through dirt and stone, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to do it now. Well, he couldn’t do anything else. He might as well try it and see what happened.
He moved over to the pickaxe and picked it up, testing it on the dirt floor. It seemed alright. He hefted it above his head, and brought it swinging down. It went through the first few inches. Encouraged, he did it again and again, making his way through three feet before he was tired. He brushed away the dirt and had a swig of water from his canteen. The wolves were still howling outside the doors of the log cabin, and it didn’t seem like they were going to stop until they’d found him. Steve doubled his efforts, and soon had a sloping tunnel through the dirt. He dug a few more inches, and struck something hard. He brushed away the dirt to find stone.
“So, this is the main part of the mountain. I’ve got to mine through this to get out.” He rubbed his hands and gripped his pickaxe tighter, and swung it at high speed. Crack. The tip had gone right through the surface easier than he’d expected. Maybe he was getting better at this.
“Hmph. I can get through this, easy.” He smashed the pickaxe through the hard stone, moving fragments away with his feet. He was tunneling even deeper, just to be on the safe side. After going through two more feet, he stopped to rest, wiping the sweat from his forehead and taking a drink of water.
“Phew”, he exhaled, “this is still hard for me to do. And I don’t know how much further I’ll be able to go with these injured arms and legs.” He pulled out a soup canteen from his bag and downed a few mouthfuls.
“It’s got to be coming to the end of the night by now. I’ve been digging for at least two hours.” He went back up to the windows and looked at the sky. It was still purple, meaning dawn was hours away.
“Dammit. I’m getting tired of this.” He shifted his backpack to his left shoulder, and descended into his tunnel again.

Outside, the wolves were still howling as they tried to enter the log cabin. They’d smelled their dead comrades late the previous day, and had come to see what had happened. At night, they’d reached Steve’s log cabin and found their dead bodies thrown outside of its doors. Their blood boiled, and they yammered in distress, vowing vengeance for the lives of their slain fellows. They’d surrounded the doors, barking as they tried to find a way in. On seeing that the doors moved a little bit under pressure, they’d concentrated all their efforts to getting in through there. After attacking the door for a few hours and clawing at the windows, they’d calmed down and decided to wait for their prey to come out and be eaten. Four hours after arriving, and they’d not seen anything happen in the log cabin. The creature inside had disappeared.

Steve was still digging inside, trying to get through another few feet before he had to rest for the night. His arms felt like lead, and he was having trouble staying on his feet. After extending his escape a total of 8 feet, he was at the end of his rope. A few more strikes were all he could do, and he promptly lay down next to his pickaxe and slept.

Six hours later, the next morning had fully dawned, and Steve was still asleep. He mumbled as the sound of the wolves’ howling echoed through the tunnel he’d made, and turned over, hitting his head on a rock. He woke up, and remembered where he was.
“Shoot. The wolves might be almost through by now.” He got up and walked through the tunnel and into the above room. They hadn’t quite made it through the door yet, but the couch was moved far enough that he could see the head of one poking through the door. He went over and kicked it in the face, and slammed the door shut. The locks had been forced open by their long hours of pushing, and he couldn’t close the door again easily. Fending off the wolves as they poked their heads through the entrance, he grabbed the couch and heaved it back into place.
“They should be almost tired out too. God help me if I have to spend twelve more hours digging here.” But it seemed that they had more energy left than that, and they were still trying to get into the cabin.
“Darn it. Get off, leave me alone, wolves. I don’t have time for this.” He sighed and went to the bathroom, and emerged a little more relieved.
“Now let’s get going,” he said again, hefting his pickaxe as he headed wearily into the tunnel. He struck through the stone carefully, but with half of the vigor of last night. He channeled two more feet into the rock before stopping for a break, and sighed.
“When will I ever get through this rock? I’ll probably die first.” With this bright opportunism, he rounded on the end of the tunnel again and began digging. Two hours and a foot and a half later, he heard something. He listened carefully, but there was no sound this time. He tapped the stone with his pickaxe. A faint thump sounded from the other side of the stone.
“A cave? That’s weird, it’s pretty high up.” He tapped the surface again, and he heard the distinctly hollow sound. “Yep, that’s definitely a cave. But what am I going to do about it? It might have an exit, or it might go straight down into the mountain.” He considered for a few moments, then broke through the wall. He cleared away the rest of the stone, and lifted an oil lamp to look around. It was big for a self-contained cave, and there were stalactites hanging down from the ceiling twenty feet up. Steve moved a few steps forward, but couldn’t see the edges of the cavern. He held on tightly to his bag of supplies, and examined the sounds of the area. There were dripping noises from the stalactites, and he could just barely see droplets of water falling at regular intervals from their tips. There was also a second water noise, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He walked forwards, and splashed a foot into water.
“Argh.” He took his foot out of the water and set it back on dry land. Now that he looked closer, he could see that most of the cave’s floor was submerged in water. There were stalagmites sticking up out of the water like islands, some even making little land masses. He heard a sound that didn’t sound like water. It was faint, and came from the far left corner of the cavern. Here it was again. A groan. Steve held his lamp out towards the sound, and could make out a shape in the darkness. There was a short hiss from the right side of the cave. Eyes flashed in the light from his lamp. Steve felt himself shiver. There was a clacking noise from the left corner of the cave. Steve turned, and found on an island in the water a pile of bones. They clacked again, and the jaw of a skull moved. Not a pile of bones, a whole skeleton. And it was somehow alive. More groans and hisses came from the far side of the room, and Steve saw figures moving slowly toward him from various islands. It was a trap.
Steve panicked. He had to get out of here, but the way back was blocked by wolves. He shone his lamp around the walls, and found a small crevice to the right. He looked into it, and the end wasn’t totally dark. He stepped into it, but couldn’t help looking back at the horrors in the cave. They were on dry ground now, and he could see their shapes as they moved toward him. One was walking unevenly toward him, and seemed to be human-like, but as Steve looked at its face he knew it was inhuman. Green, peeling skin and red eyes, with decay covering most of the visible flesh, he could see it was a zombie. Farther back to its left, there was the skeleton, walking like an automaton as its joints clanked together. It stared at him with hollow eyes, and Steve knew it would never stop until it got him.
A hiss came from his right, and he started as he saw the eyes from before. They belonged to a green creature with mottled skin and four stumpy legs that was crawling toward him. Its eyes flashed at him as it began to hiss violently. Steve threw himself down the passage without looking back till he was twenty feet away, and saw the green thing coming directly behind him. He gasped, and it stopped in front of him as its eyes flashed red, and began to hiss again. It began to shake, and Steve moved backwards as it stared at him with the terror of death on its face. He was almost away when its hissing grew unbearable and it exploded violently on him, throwing him like a rag doll down the rest of the passage. He hit the wall, and fell down a chute into the darkness.

Steve woke up hours later to find himself on the bank of a stream next to the mountain. He followed it up the mountain with his eyes. It came from high up, from a cave mouth fifty feet from the top, and churned down to where he was now. He felt his body, and relieved that nothing was broken, jumped with joy at being alive. He’d made it out of the cavern, and he was safe. He followed the stream the rest of the way down the mountain, and didn’t look back until he was far away. He was glad to have escaped, and didn’t come back again.