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The jagged rocks cut his hands as he awkwardly scrambled up the
sheer cliff face. A wind snapped down and stung his eyes. He grabbed
the rocks while he wrapped his thin meagre clothes around himself
trying to keep warm.
He hadn’t had time to collect anything useful when he fled. He had j
ust been sitting down to an early evening mojito and sushi in the ba
r, wasabe spread lightly on a pink tuna finger, when he heard the ba
ying of blood hounds approaching.
He hadn’t looked back.
“Courage man,” he spluttered as he ploughed on. He wondered where
they were now. And hoped they were stuck in that Hades of a jungle at
the mountain’s foot, with its slicing leaves and putrid smell.