It’s been two days since my last entry… I think. I haven’t really had the energy to do much and nothing’s changed since the last time I wrote in this notebook. There’s only so much I can say about being cold and hungry before it starts sounding like I’m whining. I’m starting to think I won’t die of hunger or freeze to death. Honestly, I don’t think I can die. The most I can do is suffer. Dying would be better.
Gee, that’s a happy thought.
Anyway, I’m writing today because there’s something new to talk about. I rounded the bend of the trail this morning and was greeted by a long yellow ribbon hanging from a limb of a tree covered in snow and ice. I must have stared at it for fifteen minutes before I worked up the courage to approach it. I don’t know what’s so scary about a yellow ribbon hanging from a tree, but for some reason it freaked me out.
I scanned the length of the ribbon up the tree and saw that it was tied around a bundle of… something. I gave it a yank and the bundle, along with a ton of snow, came crashing down. I did not need that. The bundle was a flannel shirt wrapped around a ski cap, work gloves, a plastic baggy full of almonds and a note impaled by a large hunting knife. The note read as follows;
“How are you still alive? You’re dumb as they come as far as I can tell. You got no less than four gores following you at any given time. I’m spending most my days leading them off your trail. I ain’t got time for this nonsense. You’re on your own from here on out. Do yourself a favor and get off the damn mountain before they stop sniffing around and start biting. – FT”
I wrote, “I can take care of myself!” on the back of the note, wadded it up, tied the ribbon around it and wrapped it back around the tree limb. FT is full of it if he thinks he needs to protect me. I’m Lou. I was made to fight monsters and bad guys. If anything, I probably should be watching out for him…
I was on my sixth almond before I realized I had forgotten something. I unwrapped the note, straightened it out and wrote “Thanks for the stuff.” After I put the note back, I headed down the trail wearing the gear FT had left me, and I held on tight to the knife with one unsettling question buzzing around in my brain.
What the hell is a gore?