What doesn't kill you

The wind began to pick up. The already cold air chilled further. Reluctantly Basileus began to consider the possibility that he was going to have to stop soon. The odd rock formation would be easy to make it to; it would take no more than a few minutes to reach it. So the question was, did he go beyond the rocks and hope there were more options for shelter between there and whenever the storm overtook him. He didn't want to get stuck in another blizzard ever again.

Frustration made him clench his teeth. The thrill of the chase was wearing thin. He was beginning to taste desperation. If not for the fucking weather he would have had his man already. Of course credit needed to be given to Enrico. Fixing the blame solely on the weather undermined the prowess of his opponent. The day he caught up to him would be one hell of a day indeed.

A scent on the wind halted Basil in his tracks. So far from home he hadn't expected to scent anyone familiar except one. The first thing that registered was the familiarity. In that moment between then and true recognition Basileus reacted instinctively. He tensed - nearly started - and then turned aggressively in Bacchus' direction. His expression cleared the moment he laid eyes on the man and turned incredulous. "Bacchus?" He couldn't believe it; what were the odds? "Ciao! Come va? " For the moment Enrico was forgotten. "Non mi aspettavo di vederti di nuovo."