White Devil Mountain by Hideyuki Kikuchi Page B

brainless man needed to learn his place.”
    The Huntress and the outlaw, two people who could never have been expected to understand each other, were enveloped in the air that suited them best—the lust for blood. Lourié was frozen in his tracks, but the doctor wrapped her arms around him from behind. The wind that blustered by carried the chill of the ice fields. Even colder than that was the murderous intent that seemed to freeze even the form of the Hunter of unearthly beauty.

    III

    “Hey,” the hoarse voice asked in a low tone, “are you sure you don’t wanna stop this? Now, I’m well aware you didn’t come back because you were worried about them. You came to take care of that wounded monster, right? Still, this is getting serious. Why don’t you stop ’em?”
    From D—silence.
    After that, the hoarse voice continued in a disgusted tone, “Don’t tell me you wanna see what the two of ’em can do. One’s gonna end up dead! Hell, if things go badly, maybe both of ’em.”
    Not so much as an eyebrow raised in that heavenly visage as it gazed at the man and woman squaring off. So beautiful, and so cold. Is that what you are, D?
    However, the truth was made an eternal mystery by the sound of something slashing through the air. And not just one thing. It was the light whistle of innumerable things closing from above. A gleam danced out. Sparks flew, and a metallic clang traveled across the ice fields. All around the group, steel arrows struck the ground. There had to be at least fifty of them.
    “Who the hell is it?” Crey said, looking ahead and to the right.
    “The mountain folk, I’d say.” Lilia was facing in the same direction.
    “Set up the refuge,” D instructed her.
    “No, they’ll ruin it. It cost me a fortune!”
    As Lilia turned away in a snit, Vera shouted, “We’ve got a child here!”
    At the same time there was the report of a rifle, and something hot scraped past the Huntress’s cheek. Everyone but D dove to the ground.
    “That does it!” Lilia reached for the folded refuge tucked through her belt. There was no other option.
    D’s right hand came up. In the same direction Lilia and Crey had looked, a succession of cries D alone could hear rang out. He’d thrown his rough wooden needles. More than a hundred yards away, a number of red splotches spread on the snow.
    “Not too shabby,” Crey said, and when he turned there was a gleam in his eye. Had he known the weapons that’d flown over a hundred yards were light, slim needles of wood, he might’ve wet himself. A fresh gunshot made him turn his head once more. “Sons of bitches! They’ve got rifles.”
    “I can’t see them.”
    “That’s what the mountain folk around here are known for. They wear chameleon suits.” Vera’s words explained the mystery.
    Chameleon suits were clothing that mimicked certain animals’ ability to make their bodies blend in with the coloring of their surroundings. Just as black clothes let one meld with the darkness, these suits would make the wearer suddenly disappear from view. Moreover, they took away the perception of depth, making it impossible to spot them. In the endless expanse of white, a foe like this could close on their prey more easily than a snow panther, then strike with their weapons. It was said that if they could maintain a certain distance, the outcome of the battle was one hundred percent clear.
    “Hey, get down!” Dust shouted to the Hunter.
    “Leave him be,” said Crey.
    “He’s a dhampir!” Lilia added.
    Apparently this was something that the two of them could agree upon. This exchange exposed the natures of the three people.
    When D bent down, shots zinged over his head. Three of them.
    “Six, all told,” the hoarse voice whispered.
    “A scouting party,” said Lilia. “Leave this to me.”
    “Quit it. You’d just piss yourself!”
    A look burning with fierce flames of loathing speared Crey. “You’re going to regret saying that soon!”
    “Sorry,