The Trapper

Swirling icy daggars bit and tore at the mass of determination moving forward in the glazed surface: no notice or care was given to them. Step by steady step broke through thin-crusted crystal sheet as soft white resistance deepened gradually and blue shadows lengthened. Still, no concern was wasted on any extra effort. This weathered soul was at one with such elemental forces. Only one matter was worthy of this being's attention. The direction headed after a good hunt: Home at last.
Boris was old school trapper and mountain man. A check of his hand-hewn log cabin would reveal there were no shortcuts or fancy comforts in his way of`life. Nature provided just about everything he needed. Except for items like weapons, cast iron cookware and liquor.
Boris sought almost constant isolation in the beautiful Canadian Rocky Mountains. Occasionally, as heavy blankets of snow crept down mountainsides and drifted into the lower valleys, he would appear in the tiny towns located below. This was only during winter season: after sunlight disappeared almost entirely from day. When darkness seemed to reign over the land for several long months. Otherwise, he remained in the alpine regions hunting, fishing and mostly forgotten.
It's not that Boris hated people in general. No, the world was left behind decades ago for another reason. It had taken his loved ones. Afterward, it refused to serve justice because of a technicality. Unable to accept a modern world that could live with laws like that. he finally rejected it, leaving all that nonsense behind for something better.
Nature was much easier to understand. Her laws were clear, honest and basic. There was no room for fools, cheaters or murderers. Animals were easier than man to live with. Thei...

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...you? Where are we headed anyway?” Parker zipped up his jacket, put his head gear back on and stepped over the rumpled bear skin, walking toward the door.

Boris stood off to the side holding it open, watching Parker leave, then immediately followed. Swinging the door shut, he pulled a cord on the outside which lowered the inside lever, securely latching the door. The chilly winds had almost completely died down. A quarter moon rode high up in the starry sky.

Stopping in his tracks to turn around, Parker called back. “I asked you, just where is it exactly we are headed for?”

“Justice!”the word leaped from Boris, who smiled faintly at the thought, and padded the wallets and ID's in his pouch. He pulled the fur closer around his neck and planted his walking stick firmly ahead. Each step made a crunching sound as the crusty surface gave way to softer snow beneath.