Harker was awakened by a series of hard slaps on the face.
He wiped the drool off his mouth and sat up. "S-Sorry, Roland…. What time is it?"
But instead of a reply, he was pushed back down and made to bite on some leaves. Then…..
Someone pushed his broken rib bone sticking out from his chest, forcing it in.
"Grrhh!!!" He groaned in agonizing pain.
"Stupid fucking white man."
Only then did his vision clear and he realized that it wasn't his best friend that was beside him, and he wasn't lying in his bed. He was lying on the fluffy snow that was now probably 10 inches thick or more. The one before him was a slightly familiar face of a native man.
Harker spat out the leaves. "You….. You're the guy that warned us….."
The native man actually looked younger than him, possibly 18 or 19, just at the cusp of adulthood.
"Indeed I am. And you didn't listen. Ah, stupid white people." He grumbled, and licked the leaves.
