Jed fell sideways through the smoke clouds choking him out. The temperature was rapidly dwindling, just like the distance remaining to impact. An explosion cracked overhead like a firecracker. He felt his eyes bulging, while his ears popped, and rang. It was caused by either the sonic boom, or a change in pressure. He had to close his eyes, with them threatening to freeze while the back of his neck was scolded red from the flames chasing him through the sky.

The fast winds forced frigidaire down his inflamed throat, while his chest hurt like it had been kicked by a horse. The witch's special brand of toxicity still seeped deep into his pours. He had apparently fallen away from the green gas at some point. But he was still falling, spinning, and flailing out of control. The end must be rapidly approaching, and he was in the dark for it. He held onto his six shooter for maybe a final shot at shooting his foe midair. Now that would be a hat trick, if only he wasn’t currently blind as a bat. The butterflies formally screaming in his stomach had gone to sleep with his leg. He must have already died because this descent was getting comically extended.

Jed opened an eye to see a fast approaching threat. A zone of ice, and snow was rapidly approaching. He struggled angling himself to a better position for impact, and almost lost the revolver overboard. Jed just managed to turn around so he would at least fall on his backpack full of cushioning.

“Puff”. The snow ate his body, while his vision faded to black.

“Brrrrr,” cried the snow, as a frostbitten arm pushed through holding a loaded gun.

The steam from hot breath billowed out next. Jed pulled himself out of the hole in the ground, shimmying with his midsection, and kicking with his legs. He shivered with fingers threatening to undergo the same cold-bluing as his barrel. He put his gun in its hip holster, and pulled off his pack to dump its contents.

He had a fire-starter, but no wood, a can of sardines under ice, two pairs of dirty socks now slapped over his wrists, and then his buck knife pulled from the sheath. He began sawing a hole into the end of his sleeping bag. Finally he pulled the zipped together stuffed cotton bag overhead, fastening it over his body so there were only the legs sticking out the opening, and small slits to see out. He left the empty backpack in the dust, and headed for the hills.

A wolf howling accompanied the whipping winds of winter. The blizzard knocked big snowflakes around making long distance visibility impossible. It appeared to be the same situation for any life without shelter. It looked like another final resting place for this dead man walking. He didn’t actually know how he got here, so maybe the dying part had already happened. If he had died he felt cheated, because he wasn’t doing the final resting he had been promised. Jed continued putting one foot in front of the other just like he had been doing all his life.

The hard ice crushed underfoot while his armored boots threatened to freeze up. The cold was debilitating, numbing, and dumbing. At least the wind had completely died leaving sight of a snow covered mountain range in the distance. The northern lights, twinkling stars, and a single full moon colored what appeared to be a frozen lake he was standing on. He limped forward over the ice of a big lake with a mind that already seemed to be subconsciously surrendering to the end. The snow dusted trees taunted him from the banks far away. No matter the grit, and willpower contained in this cowboy he needed a miracle to save his ass. “1…2..3.4 ... .5……6……777…..8…9..10………………………... .11” he counted to himself internally, in order to mentally to keep himself busy before the end of the path.

Something broke as hoofs ran out from underneath him. Jed threw back the sack over his head, and reached for his weapon. A white tail ran away from him into the dark, while he fumbled to pick up the revolver with his oven mitt like socks for gloves. A deep growling dropped his blood subzero.

“ROOOAAAAAAAR!” hissed the incoming attacker.

Jed stood nakedly exposed in the elements. He gripped on the cold metal of his only weapon.

“Bang, Bang, Bang..click…shit!”

The charging saber toothed tiger grinned. It shrugged off the little bullets launched at its pelt like bee stings. Jed ducked into cover, while the big cat lunged at its target. The red blood coated the snow as the jugular of the deer was ripped open. Jed lost bullet after bullet from his bandolier trying to chamber them with shaking hands. The cat turned not satisfied with its hunt yet. It crouched in a stalking position towards its next target, and vanished into the dark. Jed clicked in a bullet.

The man ran for his life towards the trees far away. He could feel the big animal breathing hot down his neck. The cat bounded on the run, and pounced with saber tooth's set to skewer. Jed turned, and jumped to get out of the way, but slipped on the ice. He slid on his back while the predator overshot. Its claws angrily dug in while it slid forward like it was on skates. The animal drooled that formed instantly frozen pools, while its nostrils shot steam. It slowly moved in to try a new snack.

Jed steadied his aim from the ground with both hands, and somehow managed to cling to his blade. The cat opened its mouth revealing stained teeth, and the man aimed for the curling tung. The predator grew closer and closer cautiously moving to avoid slipping again. Jed’s entire body was shaking from the adrenaline, but he didn’t give into the fear. He held onto his gumption, and the weapons. The beast fully opened its mouth drooling icy stuff on him, as it lifted a pawn to strike.

“BANG!”

Jed fed it with a shot right down the gullet. Then he stabbed the outstretched paw skewering it in place in the ice, before he kicked out the animal's other front leg that had not raised to claw him. It fell face first smacking its head with a hole in it clawing blindly, while it withered hissing in agony. He backed away while it slowly completed dying.

The adrenaline kept him going. It was going to wear off soon, and he would be stuck out in the open with nothing. He rapidly scanned for his fallen sleeping bag, and gloves, but there were no signs of them. Time was running thin. The carcass of the kill would have to make do until morning. Jed couldn’t even find the dead deer, he turned round again as his stomach dropped like the temperature. He spotted the big shadow of the slain predator, and slowly approached. The man and beast's eyes met, and both were saddened. Jed felt a primal connection established with the animal that wasn’t really all that different from himself. He blew out a sigh, while it groaned in pain.

“Bang!”

Jed put the animal out of its misery. It was survival of the fittest, and now misery was his only company. He started slicing open the stomach with his knife. His face was hit with fierce smells, but the hot air leaking out felt better. He pulled out the intestine, stomach, heart, some other parts, and drained as much blood as he could. The blizzard had started howling with the wolves again as he climbed inside cover for the night.

The next day a mangy looking donkey hauled an unconscious bloodied cowboy throughout the desert. The pack was loaded with a large keg on the rear that swung with the tail. The tumbleweeds blew by haphazardly between a lone outhouse, and a strip mine that had gone dry. The boss battle was over leaving the witch dead in the ditch, but it had taken a tremendous toll on both of them. Jed had returned from the core with just enough energy to shoot her dead, before passing out cold again. Mule no longer had the energy to take up anything but his base donkey form.

The three suns of Tenare topped the sky at high noon. The road had grown with leaves, while the surrounding trees were lifeless. A sign was sunburned too badly to tell where they were going. A deserted tollbooth was rusted permanently open. The old bridge they crossed was more orange than the dry rocks below it. A bend took them climbing a small hill, before on the other side an old farming house greeted them in the distance. The plots were long barren, the soil unrecoverable, and the clothes hung on lines in tatters. Mule lifted his nostrils to something that smelled good, and broke into a sly smile.

“Jed, don't you smell that bud? It's something cooking. It's apple pie this time, I'm sure of it,” and Mule, breaking into a gallop.

Jed groaned like a zombie in response, his mind still lingering in the frozen wasteland core far from home.