He lit his cigarette with the tacky lighter that had a picture of a pair of white kittens on it and chuckled and coughed to himself. What a ridiculous place to have a smoke. Up here two thousand metres above the distant Black sea. Not a sound he heard besides his companions voices fading over the next snow drift. He would wait and smoke and smoke and smoke. Why had he come to such a desolate place? He knew not, He didnt want to know. That knowledge was enough.