Moe Jedd.. Winterborn... Part one... The Fallen 7.

The air had turned a bitter cold and the ground an icy white, the snow then falling at an alarming rate, grew deeper and deeper, she drew an icy cold breath deep into her lungs, still, her legs tried to steady her in the deepening snow drifts, and though she through force of will, pushed forward, her pace slowed to almost a walk, until finally she staggered forward and fell to her knees. She looked back behind her and through the blinding snow, then could only see one of the seven riders that had been fast on her heels. The leader closed distance as she tried to stand, and young though she was, her legs beneath her now felt old and frail, she had covered too much ground, too fast, the burning in her lungs slowed her breath and her tired legs could no longer support her weight, all she could do was lay there and wait for the inevitable. He was now upon her.

The animal beneath him was quite large, larger than any she'd ever seen in her life. The rider, in appearance, was terrifying. He was quite tall and broad shouldered, with hair of the brightest yellow that fell past his shoulders, his eyes seemed to glow a haunting hue of blue, his skin frosty white gave him the look of death. The animal snorted, and slowed to a stop, the rider studied her carefully, he cocked his head to one side slowly pulling himself to one side, off of the saddle. She tried to crawl away from him, but it was far too late, he stood over her, removing the black leather glove from his right hand, he gently brushed his cold fingers over her cheek, and starting at her feet, she felt her legs begin to stiffen, her skin grew colder than before as she felt the blood in her veins slowly turn to ice and her eyes finally grew still and turned white as the snow. He released his grip and turned to the other six riders coming up behind him. 

He re-mounted and turned in the saddle on his animal to look at the lead rider who had drawn closer, his cold eyes seemed to roam slowly over the scene as the heavy falling snow silently lashed at the cold icy ground. He raised his gaze to meet hers.

"Is it done then?" She asked in a cold raspy tone.

He returned his gaze to the form of the young dead girls frozen body.

"Yes... She is gone... Like... The others... Strip away what isn't needed... Mine the soul... Like.... The others... We... Will move on... There are... Many others... To... feed on here." He hissed.

The other six riders circled the dead girls body and stopped, the female, got off her horse, and knelt down beside of the girl and inspected the body, she returned her eyes to the lead rider who was watching her every move. She slowly stood up.

"There is something to be taken her Gideon, but I fear... She is not the one."

He leaned forward in the saddle.

"Take what you can get... Leave... The Flesh... To... Rot..." 

He turned away and returned to the trail. the rest finished their deed and followed along behind him.

Northwest Territories…  62 miles, Southeast of Havenwood, November 3rd, 1871.

There wasn't much to see nor tell along the way, to speak of, he'd come all the way from the dusty valleys of the Desolation Sands, across raging rivers, and over the highest mountain tops finally dropping down into the old Oregon Trail, which he would follow all the way through British Columbia into the Northwestern Territories, he rode for days and nights on end, until the ground itself had begun to turn white, and the frost had covered his wake. The trees became thicker and the path up into the snow top mountain of Blackmoon rise, a trail of a different type caught his suspicious eyes. He carefully studied the tracks until finally pulling the small leather-bound book from his saddlebag. On the third page was a hand drawn picture of a horse shoe with strange small cross patterns along the whole edge of the shoe.

He prompted the horse forward, following the trail of the odd horse shoe prints in the snow, stopping when he saw the body of the young girl lying still, half covered in snow. Her eyelids were still open as she almost seemed to be staring up at him, her eyes themselves bloodless, lifeless, black as coal.  Moe Jedd's eyes began to study the skies around him, more cloud black, almost as black as the dead girl's eyes he thought, another storm was moving in, and it was looking to be a bad one. He would be needing to find shelter soon. He headed straight up to the mountain side until he reached a series of jutting cliffs reaching straight up toward the sky, he followed the face around a bend in the rocks until he came upon what he was looking for heading west. A small but fairly deep hollowed out area in the cliff face, big enough for his animal and him. 

He was able to gather enough wood in the underbrush of fallen trees to strip down to build a nice fire, killing two hares looking for shelter in the process. He brushed and bedded down the horse, feeding him a small bag of oats hanging from the saddle. The animal went down to his front knees and lye down by Moe, Moe smiled, petting the side of his neck gently.

"Young feller, you've been with me for over a year now, I reckon you've lasted longer than some of my friends. I've been thinking about calling you something other than horse, I reckon Shadow will do. What do you think, handsome boy?" 

He walked back to the fire and turned the roasting hares, when he heard the sound of muffled falling hooves. He pulled the Sharpes from the scabbard and was waiting when the rider rounded the bend. He cocked the rifle when he heard the soft mild pitched southern drawl cursing softly against the falling snow, atop the white speckled stallion sat a round, older fellow with long white hair adorned in furs with a wolves head for a hat. His eyes moved back and forth between the fire and Moe Jedd. 

"Mind if I sit and warm my old bones by your fire, young feller?" He asked.

Moe Jedd replaced the Sharpes back into the scabbard but kept the two army colts handy. He nodded to the other side of the fire, his eyes never leaving him, passing him a skewer of cooked hare.

"Much obliged, pilgrim," he said. "You happen upon a young girl dead in the snow, did you?"

Moe Jedd looked out at the snow.

"Found four more just like her at the bottom of the eastern slope bout five miles out, same trail I followed up here." Moe said. "Same trail I've been following since British Columbia."

"How many folks they bag in B.C.?"

"Seven others."

"Left them lay, did they?"

"Same as these, same black eyes." Moe studied him.

"Didn't seem like she was shot pilgrim, how do you reckon they killed 'em?"

Moe's eyes squinted.

"From the inside out, from the looks of things, the same way all of them died."

Moe's eyes drifted back out to the snow and then back to the old man. 

"You got a name, old timer?"

He looked up from his dinner and smiled slightly.

"Mordecai P. Lovecraft." He said.

Moe extended his hand.

"Moe Jedd."

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