SF Drabble #341 “Trapper”

He stopped his ascent to rest in the shade of an outcropping. The air was thin here: he rested often. He pulled a chunk of ore from his pocket to roll it around in his hands. Worth It.

He’d been coming up a year before he even saw a Grey for the first time; it had been a fleeting glimpse from a distance, movement among the rocks above. Now, suddenly, a party of hunters stared at him from twenty paces. He smiled, waved. I hope they know what that means.

One came forward and knelt to draw in the dust.

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