A fresh thick blanket of snow fell upon Khaz Modan. A long valley stretched out from the foot of a mountain peak. Ever green branches of the trees below bowed under the weight of fresh white powder. The trees grew sparse the deeper into the valley, and parted into groves and then stands with ample space between. The white blanket of snow gave an otherworldly silken sheen under the sun. At the base of one such laden pine the head of a snow hare peeked up from its world beneath the snow. It’s dark black eyes searched the frigid white landscape for danger. Its long ears lifted into the freezing air, rotating this way and that, trying to tune into any signal that might spell death and doom. All was silent and still.
With a bound the small creature emerged. Its wide pawed feet perfectly adept at bracing its weight upon the soft snow. It’s white fur camouflaged the creature perfectly with its surroundings, giving it an evasive edge to any predator that might dare. It’s long powerful legs propelled the hare forward, carving a shallow path as it went. It’s keen nose catching the scent of something delightful on the wind. It sped from tree to tree, crossing dangerous open stretches of snow between groves and stands until finally it found it’s prize. Chuncks of something red and sweet lay strewn across the open snow field. Without a moment’s thought the hare bound out into the open to inspect it’s prize. Finding a sizable chunk, the hare first sniffed, then nibbled. It was delicious!
A line of bare wooden poles stood in the snow near the hare. To the creature they seemed as thick tree trunks, and nothing more. At their tops they held large round green orbs. Crack! One of the orbs popped open with loud thud, scaring the hare. The creature turned on its heels and bound for the nearest stand of trees. As it reached safety, a peel of distant thunder echoed in the distance. Not taking another chance, the hare burrowed deep into the safety of the thick snow.
High on the slope of a distant mountain peak the trees began to thin. White ice coated the trees, trunk and branch. It was here that a lone Gnome lifted his head from his rifle scope. Dob pulled down the white insulating scarf around his face. He pulled down the pair of intricate Gnomish goggles that were perched atop his wool capped head, and thumbed the power switch on the side. The goggles hummed to life. Layers of ocular magnification lenses swapped places. Dob groaned to himself. “Off a hair.”
Sitting back from his rifle, the Gnome raised the goggle to their perch atop his head and pulled a small mechanical device from his coat pocket. He began rapidly pressing buttons. “Point two millicroms to the left.” He pulled his goggles down for a moment before raising them once again. “Barometric, point zero two. Azimuth degrade, point zero, zero five.” Dob continued muttering calculations to himself while his thumbs furiously entered his dictations with sequential button presses.
This was his peace. His zen. His silence. Nothing else in this world had ever quieted his loud mind and put him at such an ease as this. Sitting on the mountain slope, hidden away from the world. Nothing but him and the wild. Just him and nature. The air, as frigid as it was this time of year, could be so still. So tranquil. It pulled the chaos out of his mind and left him at peace.
This too was his peace. His focus. The rifle before him was more than just a weapon, or a tool. It was his talisman. His spirit and soul. When he looked down its sights, or in this case through its scope, the world (his world) came into such clear focus. Everything else drowned out. All noise and distraction faded away. In the moment it was just him, and his sight picture. There was a profound intimacy in that. A profound simplicity. An incredible responsibility. Taking action meant ending a life. Erasing a being from the chalkboard of existence in a poof of white dust. Not taking an action might mean erasing dozens more. Ever action, or inaction, carried a heavy consequence.
It was clarity. Focus. Life was simplified.
Outside of his scope, away from his rifle, surrounded by the trappings of civilized existence, life was anything but simple. Few things were clear, and focus… oh, forget about focus. Too many people going too many places to do too many things, and all of it carry on with a pointless existence. That so called Life was meaningless. Dob hated every moment of it.
Well, not every moment. It certainly had its bright spots. Dob’s thumbs slowed their typing as his thoughts trailed off. The memory of a woman, of the love they’d shared, was one of the only things that pushed the Gnome away from his data entry. Away from his rifle and scope. The memory of her for the briefest moments pulled his spirit away from that stand of trees high on the mountain slope, and back into civilization. Then his heart beat. The memory faded. Reality slapped him in the back of the head as the bitterness of their unfortunate parting came flooding back, threatening to damage his calm.
Dob squinted into the distance and huffed a sharp breath through his nose. He pulled his white insulating scarf up over his face and lowered himself against his rifle. A thunderous explosion cracked into the sky and shook the snow from nearby tree branches. Far in the distance, in the valley below, another watermelon exploded upon a pole. Moments later distant thunder clapped from the mountain slope.
This year had been good to him. It had been his best yet. He’d finally found a home within the alliance war machine. A family within the 7th Legion. He’d tried to have a family before. For so many reasons it didn’t take. Time wasn’t standing still, nor was he getting any younger. This was his purpose now, and Dob saw no reason why he should make any changes now.
Dob sat up and jerked back on the rifles charging bolt. A large spent ammo casing ejected, melting into the snow beside several others of it’s kind. Slamming the bolt closed loaded another live round. “Happy New Year.” Dob muttered, then shouldered his rifle once more.