As the days went on, the journeys got harder.
Supplies were low, so everyone was starving all the time. Keir smoked non-stop,
as he appeared to have brought more cigarettes that the rest had brought food.
In all fairness he had offered them all a few. Sienna had tried, under his
careful instruction, but hated it. James refused to try it and Braeden was wary
of cigarettes.

“Suit yourselves.”

Keir said airily.

He didn’t find so much pleasure in them a few
days later, when, even under careful rationing, the food ran out and he was
living solely on them. Sienna had laughed at the fact he thought he could
survive on just cigarettes until they got to the other side of the mountain.

It wasn’t pretty.

Sienna had never seen someone cough up what
looked like tar, and she wished things had stayed that way.

But if she’d been given the choice of smoking
or cooked goat she would have chosen smoking in a heartbeat.

Keir had shot a mountain goat for food, when
three days of ‘the starvation/cigarette diet’ had finally got to him.

The job of skinning it had been a disgusting
process which Sienna, Braeden, Keir and James tackled. James had reluctantly
abandoned his vegetarianism. It was goat or nothing.

The gristly, badly cooked meat was unappetising
and Sienna had to suppress the urge to stick her fingers back her throat and
sick it up.

Keir, who’d shot it thought even less of it.

Their small supply of water was running low and
they hoped that they’d get to a stream soon.

The End

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