1
Nox (Aiden)
An unexpectedly strong, icy wind blows him backwards, burying him in metres of deep snow. Large, thick chunks of ice immediately slide under the edge of his hood and collar and into his coat. Moments earlier, he had pushed his scarf aside to eat some dried meat, and now the icy snow slides into his neck through the same opening.
“Goddamn it! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Cursing loudly, Nox tries to turn around and sit up, something that was easier said than done. The snow was deep, his thick clothing and large snowshoes were in the way, and there was nothing to pull himself up on. When he finally gets onto his hands and knees, the strong wind makes standing up difficult. It takes him five attempts to stand up and stay upright.
Exhausted and annoyed by the struggle, he continues on his way back. ‘Why the hell did I have to go and check the traps?’ he scolds himself inwardly. ‘I knew a storm was coming!’
Bending over to shield the small patch of exposed skin not covered by his snow goggles or scarf from the stinging snow, Nox leans on his bow ploughing his way forcefully through the deep snow.
After what seems like an endless white expanse, Nox reluctantly lifts the edge of his fur-lined hood to check his route. To his relief, he can make out the contours of the old factory despite the heavy snowfall. For a moment he pauses, and closes his eyes while releasing a deep sigh, relieved to be almost home. Home sweet home!
With his toes and fingertips almost completely frozen, Nox finally stumbles into the factory hall, having worked his way through the deep snow for at least another fifteen minutes. Groaning with effort, he quickly closes the large sliding door behind him, leaving the biting cold outside.
With fingers stiff from the cold, Nox pulls his hood back and takes off his snowshoes and goggles. He hangs them on a hook on the wall next to the entrance, then slowly walks to the metal staircase that leads to the heated living area, his legs also stiff from the cold.
At the top of the stairs, Nox sits down on the bench outside the living room. He removes his snow- and ice-covered boots and swaps his cold, damp socks for a pair of dry ones, then slips his feet into fur-lined boots. A soft moan of pleasure escapes him when he feels the soft fur of a huge hare, he had caught in one of his traps a few months earlier, enveloping and warming his feet almost instantly. Quickly he trades his bulky, wet coat for a weathered cardigan and steps into the living room. There, the inviting warmth of the fireplace greets him.
“Well…? Did you find anything in the traps?” His brother’s deep baritone voice sounds from the back of the room.
Just under two years ago, they took refuge in the old factory, where Nox converted the former offices at the front into a kitchen. However, due to a lack of time and materials, he had never managed to build a fireplace in the kitchen. Luckily, it wasn’t as cold as it was downstairs, thanks to the heat coming in through the cracks in the walls and windows and under the door to the other office space, which had been made into a living room with a wood stove and a fireplace made by hand. The temperature in the kitchen could be described as almost nice.
Instead of hanging his wet coat on the hook next to the door leading to the warm living room, Nox takes it inside, and without answering Shane, he sits down in one of the two armchairs by the fireplace.
The thick, insulated coat had clearly seen better days — Nox could already see two large holes on the right-hand side, under the armpits. As he examines the fabric more closely, he spots several more holes scattered across the coat. The seams of the old coat were coming apart and, although Nox had tried to repair it with pieces of fabric from other worn-out coats, it offered little protection against the icy cold and snow that had dominated most of the Earth’s surface for years.
Nox let out a frustrated sigh. How was he supposed to hunt and scavenge for food and supplies without decent gear?
“Is it too much to ask for an answer?” Nox’s gaze shifts towards his brother, who was fixing a wooden chair leg at the dining table in response to Shane’s sharp remark.
Slowly stretching his legs towards the fireplace to warm his numb feet, Nox continues to stare at his brother, who stares back in his direction with his blind eyes.
Nox couldn’t help but admire his brother. Even though Shane was blind, Nox had to admit that he was damn handy when he spots the almost finished chair leg in his hands.
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Shane,” Nox finally says, sounding annoyed.
Shane’s irritation with his brother is painfully clear when he slams the wooden leg down onto the table. He then turns back into the direction he knows Nox is sitting.
“You really are a massive prick, Aidan!” His brother snarls angrily.
Nox chuckles. Shane only ever called him by his real name when he was fed up with him.
Although he knew perfectly well that Shane couldn’t see him, Nox could never quite shake off the feeling that his brother could still see him. He could look at him or stare in a direction as if there were nothing wrong with his eyes.
Shaking his head, Nox turns his attention back to the worn-out coat on his lap and reaches for the hunting knife tucked away in the holster on his shin. He starts to unpick some of the torn seams at the bottom of the coat.
“My sweet, dear, blind brother. Don’t you think I would’ve told you by now if I’d found something in the traps?” he finally says mockingly.
Enraged, Shane jumps up, causing his chair to fall backwards with a loud bang. Although he had been blinded in an accident eight years earlier while working as a police officer, his disability certainly did not make him dependent on his brother. With lethal accuracy, he hurls his razor-sharp chisel at Nox, who swiftly diverts his head just in time, evading a hole in his head.
“Fuck you, asshole!” Shane snaps furiously. “You’re a real piece of shit, Aiden!” His eyes blaze as he stares at his brother.
Agitated by Shane’s unexpected action, Nox throws the still-wet coat aside and slams the knife onto the small table next to his chair. With a cat-like movement, he bends forward to pick up the chisel from the floor. With fury swirling in his eyes, Nox straightens and stalks towards his brother. He stops right in front of an equally furious Shane, leaning forward so much that their noses almost touch. Nox’s hands tremble with suppressed rage, and he has to use all his willpower not to punch Shane in the face.
He opens his mouth to lash out, but suddenly feels something trickling down his right cheek. Surprised, he wipes it off and his eyes widen at the sight of the red fluid covering the tip.
Shane had clearly had perfect aim, as the chisel had grazed the top of his cheekbone. Nox’ fury boils to the surface and he grabs his brother by the collar of his old, faded blue jumper, pulling him even closer. Now their noses do touch and he can feel his brother’s warm breath fanning across his beard.
“Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again, Shane, or I’ll beat your fucking face to a bloody pulp!” he spits furiously, not in the least intimidated by his brother’s bared teeth or the firm, almost painful grip Shane has on his wrist.
Before their argument can escalate further, they suddenly hear an unusual sound coming from downstairs. Although the storm raging outside the factory drowns out most sounds, the strange, soft sound doesn’t escape the two brothers. They immediately freeze, their argument fading into the background as they prick up their ears.
