Season of Desire: Complete Edition Read Online Free PDF Page B

leading me onwards.
    At least I won’t die alone.
    It seems impossible that we can survive this storm. It’s growing in strength with every second, the wind howling around us and the snow thickening until it’s like walking through stinging white water. I don’t know where we’re going and I don’t care. Then we are descending, climbing downwards somehow, and I’m up to my waist in snow, then out again, then plunging into its depths. The bodyguard pulls me out and impels me onwards, even though I’m moving in a kind of frozen trance, hardly even noticing my pain. All I want is for it to stop.
    Then, after what has felt like hours, he does stop. I am still stumbling forwards and I crash into him, coming up hard against his body. I groan with agony. He shouts something but the wind whips away his words before I have a chance to make out what he has said. A shape looms up before us, but I can’t discern what it is. Then he pulls me forward and to my astonishment, I’m sudden out of the howling torrent of the snowstorm and in quiet darkness.
    I’m shivering so hard I can hardly speak. I blink, looking about me, my eyes gradually becoming accustomed to the dark. ‘Wh– wh– where are we?’
    He’s shaking snow from his jacket, brushing it out of his face and eyes. ‘We’re lucky again,’ he declares. ‘That’s three times in a row. We might be at the end of our lucky streak but it may be all we needed.’
    I’m gazing at my feet and the rough dirt floor I’m standing on. We’re inside, I’ve grasped that. But where?
    He’s saying, ‘Come on, we have to get you a little bit warmer.’
    ‘What is this place?’ I manage to say and this time, he turns back to me with a glowing smile that almost, for a moment, warms me with its happy optimism.
    ‘It’s a shepherd’s hut,’ he explains. ‘It was used in the old days for summer lodgings. The shepherds would come up with their flocks for the grazing and stay with them the entire season, before taking them back down to the villages for the winter. It’s not been properly occupied for years, though. Now it’s used by mountaineers and walkers who need a place to shelter if the weather changes. I’ve seen a few places like this in the Alps: little stone – we’d call them bothys in Scotland – one-room cottages.’ He starts to move around, looking in every corner of the small room. There’s a large fireplace on one side just by the door we came in at, and I can see the remains of a fire in it. Along the other three walls are beds or couches, roughly made from crates and planks. A small glazed window is built into one wall on the side that looks out over the mountain, but there is nothing but white to be seen beyond it. The walls are thick – the windowsill is over two feet deep – and the wind doesn’t seem to penetrate them, even though they are bare stone. On the sill are some boxes and the bodyguard is already looking through one of them. ‘Aha!’ he cries, lifting out a box of matches and a large silver torch. ‘Just what I’d hoped for. And look.’ He pulls out a laminated card with writing on it. He begins to read out loud. ‘Welcome. This hut is for the use of all who need it. Please leave it as you would hope to find it. If you can leave replacements for what you use, or money in lieu, please do. Otherwise, take what you need. This is not a place for holidaymakers but for those in genuine need of shelter, so do not abuse it. It is regularly checked. You are kindly asked to sign the visitors’ book to record your presence here. Thank you.’
    My eyes are more accustomed to the gloom now. Still shaking violently with cold, I gaze at him. He looks over at me, and his cheerfulness fades a little.
    ‘Right,’ he says with determination, ‘let’s get going.’
    He leads me to one of the roughly made beds and I can see that there are sleeping bags on each one. He helps me to sit down, grabs one – a greasy-looking blue bag – and starts