Hand over hand he continued to climb the remaining distance, aware now that several of his fingers were cut and bleeding. But before another shot was fired he managed to slip over the high point he had been heading for, dropping from view on the other side, where he lay panting for several seconds. Assessing his new surroundings, he saw the ever-present mountain peaks on his right, and there was now a shallow slope ahead of him, which led his eye to a trail of smoke. It was further down, perhaps half a kilometre away beneath the ledge he had been traversing. He was unable to determine its source, but he thought that where there was smoke there was a strong probability of finding other people—perhaps someone who could help him. His hopes lifted as he began to descend the slope, but then he heard a sound that instantly rekindled his despair. Dogs, at least two of them, were suddenly baying for his blood.
He imagined his pursuers had brought the dogs out from the secluded mountain retreat he had escaped from, further back towards the road. He supposed the beasts were well-suited to the mountains, and he knew it would not take them long to find him. The only question in his mind now was whether he could make it to the source of the smoke before they reached him. He began to run. The loose ground beneath his boots made for treacherous footing and he was soon out of control, barely managing to stay on his feet as his momentum grew. As the slope levelled out and his pace slowed, he ventured closer to the ledge and peered down into the valley, his eyes trained on the smoke trail. He could see a chimney now. It had to be a climbers’ hut and there was clearly someone there. But how to reach it?
The dogs kept howling. They sounded closer and their vicious din spurred him on. He tracked the ledge, looking for a way down. The hut was in full view now, less than a few hundred metres away. On level ground, he knew he could have sprinted to it in no time, but this was not level ground. Far from it. Taking the direct route he saw that there were two steep descents between him and the hut. He saw a wide ledge, perhaps ten metres below him, where the mountain levelled off, then he had to hope there was a way down from there. He lowered himself and began to climb.
The dogs now sounded terrifyingly close—so close that he paused to look back at the slope he had just run down. Then he saw the first of them. He realised they must have found another route, a longer but flatter way around perhaps, but with speed on their side they had quickly made up lost ground. The hound paused momentarily, and as if it had just seen him, it began to bound down the slope after him as the second dog came into view.
He wasted no time. As he descended lower and lower, he thought the angle of his descent would surely slow the dogs down. They would have to find another way again, but he knew it would not stop them. They were so fast that it was only a matter of seconds before they were above him, snapping and growling, their teeth bared, their jowls drooling. At first he thought they would try to follow after him, such was their hunger, but as he sank lower, further distancing himself from them, they hesitated. A moment later they were gone.
The rest of the descent to the ledge below came and went in a blur. He reached it and ran to the next ledge. The hut was so close now that he could smell the wood-smoke coming from the chimney, but it was still tantalisingly out of reach. The way down from here appeared even steeper and he doubted his skills. His hands were shredded, the shirt rags he had wrapped them with now red through with his blood.
He ran along the ledge, looking for a better way down. There was another slope. It was covered with scree from the cliff face. He ran towards it, but as he came closer, he heard the dogs again. They were ahead of him now, picking their way down through the rocks, between him and the slope he was heading for. His first thought was to turn and run back the other way, but he already knew there was no way down for him in that direction, and he supposed that if he tried to climb again, the men driving the dogs would be there waiting for him. So he ran faster, hoping to reach the scree first.
But he did not.
He stopped just a few strides away as the first of the dogs came at him, all snarling teeth and muscle. It pounced and he fell. He tried to hold the beast by the neck, but it was too strong. A moment later he felt its teeth bite into his arm. Then with the other he reached out and found a rock, which he drove hard into the animal’s skull. It whimpered and fell back. He had no time to consider his injured arm. He was on his feet again at once, but now the second dog was bounding and howling towards him. There was only one option open to him and he took it. As the dog arrived, he ran to the scree slope and leapt for his life, hurling himself down onto his stomach. Beneath him the loose stone began to slip and slide, until they were moving together, like water along a fast flowing stream that built and built as he descended further. Both dogs continued after him. He saw one and then the other, sliding with him, but they were no longer in control of their destiny any more than he was.