Despite Pest's complaints in a few previous posts, life has been anything but boring of late. It's like the old curse, "May you live in interesting times..."

I don't even know where to begin talking about everything that happened in the last few days. I guess I should pick up from the last post and go from there. To be honest, nothing really happened that night after we got that vague threat from Diego except for a cold snap which put the cabin's fireplace back on active duty. It was actually a rather picturesque scene with the crackling fire and the first snow flakes falling gently outside our window. Even Pest got in the mood, stopping his endless tirade of moaning to just sit back, relax, and take it all in.

We awoke the next morning to find that the snow still going strong. It wasn't long before I got a call from Sylvie telling me that the roads on the way up were in terrible shape and she'd be there as fast as she could push through. At the time, I wasn't too concerned, as nothing seemed to be very threatening anymore in the calm atmosphere we now found ourselves in. However, it proved to be the calm before the storm.

It was Pest who noticed the figure approaching from the far side of the woods later that afternoon. Dressed all in black, they stood out like a sharp smudge on the slowly whitening scene. My first thought was that Sylvie had finally arrived, but it seemed odd that she'd come on foot from so far away. So, we waited patiently to see what the mysterious visitor would do next. Of course, Pest, having better long-distance eye sight than me, was the first to be able to discern that it was in fact Diego, complete with a rather imposing sword slung across his back. He seemed to be quite at ease with the whole situation, moving with a deliberate and measured pace towards our tiny, isolated little refuge. Pest, on the other hand, was anything but, jumping around like an antsy little school girl as Diego got ever closer. For my part, I was simply numb with dread (and cold, as we'd neglected the fire while we sat at the window with baited breath.)

Finally, when Diego was within a short distance from our door, he stopped and called out to us with a bellowing voice. He challenged Pest to come out and face him in open combat, which was all the prompting Pest needed to bolt like a rabbit out the back door and into the newly fallen snow. If Diego heard any indication of that flight, he didn't show it as he stood alarmingly still in the near silence of the early evening air, the snow now blustering around him in ever-increasing fury.

After a few minutes with no answer, Diego once again resumed his steady progress towards our door, unsheathing his sword as he approached the steps. I was shaking with fright, but I had enough presence of mind to try and find a hiding spot before he made it in. Unlike Pest, I never considered exposing myself to the harsh elements of the approaching night. He, after all, had a considerable coat of fur to protect him, while I had a barely serviceable wool coat for meager defense (hey, who needs a serious winter coat back in San Francisco?). So, I ran into the bedroom, locked the door, and hid under the bed like a scared cat.

It wasn't long before I heard the splintering crack of the front door being forcibly opened by the business end of a length of sharpened steel. A few short footsteps later, and the bedroom door suffered a similar fate. To be honest, the only other pieces of furniture in the room were an old chest of clothing and a small night stand, so my clever hiding spot under the bed was quickly discovered. However, he seemed somewhat dissapointed to find only me there, although I doubt he was entirely surprised. He dragged me out to the main room with very little thought for my comfort, plopped me onto the couch and coolly asked where Pest had gone. It hardly seemed worth the effort to concoct a story for him, so I simply pointed to the back door and shrugged. He scowled, threw me my coat, and marched me over there at sword point, gesturing for me to lead the way. I didn't see the point of bringing me along for the chase and told him as much, but he muttered something vague about needing me "for bait" and left it at that.

Outside, the snow had graduated from flurries to an all-out storm, limiting visibility to a mere few feet around us at times. I suppose I could have just run for it during one of those moments, but my chances of survival seemed increasingly slim out there on my own, so I just screwed up my courage and prayed that Sylvie would follow through on her promise. Of course, the worsening conditions obscured the most obvious traces of Pest's path, so Diego continually kept halting our progress to search for any other tell-tale signs of his flight. We carried on that way for a few torturous hours before Diego finally submitted to the elements and stopped our search amidst a small outcropping of overhanging rocks. I passed out from exhaustion the second we stopped moving, wondering as I did if Pest was actually tough enough to handle himself under the same conditions.

In fact, I'm actually still trying to recover the from the physically and mentally trying events of that night, typing this from the comfort of a warm, dry bed. In the interest of not further fatiguing myself, I'll stop the tale there for now and pick it up when I've recuperated a bit more. If it helps ease the suspense any, you'll be happy to know I survived the ordeal in one piece (well, I wouldn't be writing this now if I hadn't, so that's not much of a spoiler, is it?).