We were deep in enemy territory when the snow hit. We could not afford to pause to wait out the storm, so we continued on quickly and silently, almost like the ghosts we would rapidly become if we were caught.
Unfortunately, in this much snow even ghosts leave tracks. Snow is a mixed blessing for those being tracked. If enough falls, it might cover your tracks again. If not, you might as well leave neon arrows pointing after you pass. You'll be found just as quickly.
Luck was not with us. The snow was abating, and we were not close enough to safety to make a run for it. We would have to make a stand.
We built the fort at the base of an ancient spruce. We worked with an energy and efficiency borne of panic, our movements almost too quick to follow. It was a small fort, but sturdy. We cleared the ground around it so the enemy wouldn't be able to come close without being exposed.
We knew the attack would come at dawn.
Fortunately, ammunition was plentiful.
Finally, we were ready. When the enemy attacked he would be met with deadly force.
There was nothing left to do but take turns at the watch and try to catch an hour or two of sleep before the battle was joined. We slept, dreaming that we were ghosts already.
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