Flash Fiction: "My Gift To You"

The south face was actually harder. The continual erosion of the rocks from snow-melt and wind exposure caused a shifting scree underfoot which was worse than the cold. It meant that she'd have to abandon many of her precious few pitons buried in the stone, but just so long as she didn't lose her way down. She went over the sequence in her head, again, the specific order of words, ropes, hammerings, and gestures that she would have to do, at the next cave mouth. Each opening was different, and the price for missteps rose sharply as she descended. She looked down, and saw the ledge, about twelve feet below her, but she'd taken her eyes off the rock in front of her and then she heard it.

Their skittery, chitinous chattering wasn't unfamiliar, at this point, and she knew what she would have to do to stave them off. She pulled out one of the wrapped parcels and lit it with her flint and tinder, relishing the brief heat before extinguishing it and drawing the sigil on the wall. She heard the screeching, and continued her way down, this offering made. She just hoped she'd brought enough cheese.
©Damien Williams. All Rights.
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This flash fiction was written from mendori's prompts.

Might do the last one before I turn in. Might do an essay, instead, to clear my head and start fresh.

We'll see how it goes.