He cut out a circle in one corner of the tent floor and scooped out a cat hole for a latrine. His deposits froze solid within minutes.Wait. Wait and listen. Try not to fear the storm. Try not to fear the endless darkness. The day might break only briefly with dim twilight on the northern horizon if the storm clouds would allow. The wind could rise to hurricane force. He would be secure in his snow-anchored habitat. While he had stove fuel for hot water, food to eat, beverage to warm his stomach, and if his clothing and sleeping bags remained dry, he would make and retain body heat to survive.Dry insulation and body heat are the keys to survival. Stay dry, generate heat, and retain it. Avoid sweat, avoid chill, maintain hydration and nourishment. It becomes a religious mantra, a dogma of survival. Training and experience are the keys to self-preservation.On the seventh day the winds did reach near-hurricane strength and Michael feared that the seams and anchor points of the small tent. I sheathed my blades and bowed, “Thank you master.”He smiled faintly, “Do not thank me Dancer.”I bowed again, “As you wish.”He gestured to the door, “Never forget the dance.”I turned and walked out without looking back, that was a year ago. The court was full of talk about the elves that had returned with the prince. The Kingdoms of Ginge and Floff to the south were preparing for war and we knew the foul ones would be looking to cause trouble too. I was only a baron, my father had died suddenly ending my time with the master.Each morning I went to the practice field to exercise. The other nobles and even the soldiers laughed. I moved through my dance ignoring those around me. I shifted at a disturbance and blocked the sword reaching for me. I slid to the side as my other long knife slashed and the elf slid back quickly. A new dance began as I slid his sword away each time it came towards me.The elf was grinning as he blocked and spun, lunged and slid to the side. I followed and knew.
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