Cold & Native

He raised his arms again, palms at an angle as if trying to calm and stop her.

"Wait."

She stopped and raised an eyebrow.

Question.

Why was he stopping her? Or was it a 'what did 'wait' mean'?

He took a timid step in her direction, which she reacted to by moving her body back, putting her hand with the glass on the counter, using that as leverage and then she stepped back only using her healthy leg.

Okay. She apparently still did not trust him even for a second. How could something with such intelligent eyes be so stupid?

He dropped his arms and took a few steps back, somewhat disappointed. Maybe he shouldn't be, but it felt stupid to watch her hobble along the oven and then the workspace in the U-shaped kitchen. She would look at him after every step, making sure that he stayed where he was.

It took her a second to figure out how the sink worked. She had watched him open the tap and did the same, carefully, until water flowed. The plug explained itself, and she wiped down the sink with water and her fingers, then put the plug in and opened the tap all the way.

She turned her head, eyeing him warily, then lowered her head in to the sink and began to drink, the tap still running.

He watched her for a minute, wondering how she had lost that much blood and could still stand upright.

No, she must have lost a lot of liquid in other ways too.

When she was done, she closed the tap carefully at the beginning, watching the water flow diminish, then quickly shut it.

With that apparently done, he pointed at her, then past the workspace in to the living room.

She only raised an eyebrow.

He tried again, this time pointed at her, then made a walking motion with to fingers and pointed at the couch.

She raised an eyebrow again and it dawned on him that she had understood what he had tried to say the first time and actually asked why.

God damn, why was she so wary of him?

He sighed and left her standing in the kitchen.

The last embers in the fireplace were still glowing and he planned on using that to light the next fire, not lighter fluid. Stacking wood in anticipation of the weather had been the one thing Ryan had spent most of his time on in the last month, much to the dismay of his publisher. It had reached the point where firewood was lining a quarter of the living room to about as high as his chest.

Some of those logs now went in to the fireplace along with a piece of newspaper, which promptly ignited upon touching the embers and in turn slowly set fire to the logs.

While he worked, he heard her hooves' or more precisely hoof's telltale clicking sound and turned his head to see that she was following him, but was stuck on the exit of the kitchen. There were three yards of room between the exit and the end of the couch. She looked around, searching for something to prop herself up upon. He stood up and walked over, then waited about two arm's lengths away from her. That had been as close as he had gotten in the kitchen.

She gave him another wary look, but finally reached for his hand. Ryan stepped closer, then braced himself and his hand as she attempted to step forwards.

Extending his arm had definitely not been enough. Her weight on one arm was way too much and she stumbled in his direction, which he counteracted by making a step forwards and catching her just as she laid her arms around his shoulders to hold on to him.

She seemed a lot lighter now than she had been when he'd dragged her around. Probably because she was awake now and not as limp.

Under her wary eyes, he got even closer and supported her on the side of her troubled leg with her arm over his shoulders. Her scent was overpowering now, or to describe it more accurately: she reeked of sweat, earth, bodily fluids and blood. What was also overpowering him was the softness of her body and the sheer size of her boobs, which seemed to have grown even bigger since he had last seen them. This, coupled with the fact that she was currently touching him, meant that he had to seriously concentrate to keep from pitching a tent. Her smell helped, though.

Together, they moved slowly towards the fireplace. She kept pushing towards the blanket he had set her down upon when she was still unconscious and he had no objections.

Ryan carefully set her down and she grimaced as she moved the leg. Then he used some of the pillows to build an improvised ramp that she could prop herself up on, which she did. It wasn't all that much though and he thought about what he could use, then quickly turned and left the living room.

"Wyhen."

Ryan stopped an turned. She had an eyebrow raised.

Where was he going?

He wasn't able to explain that, since he had no idea how to communicate that he was going in to his bedroom to pick up a duvet to prop her up to a more useful angle.

"Wait", he answered, hoping she had already picked up what that word meant. He accompanied it with an outstretched palm, pointing at her at an angle. Stay.

He hurried out, hoping she wouldn't get up again and quickly fetched the duvet from his bedroom, then went back to see her in the process of getting up.

She hadn't gotten far yet, was just to roll over on to all four. When he tried to gently push her back, she flinched away form his hand and even shifted her upper body away from him.

He'd almost carried her, offered her water, behaved very very friendly and she was still this distrustful? What the hell was wrong with her?

Ryan sighed and got to work on balling up the duvet. She flinched away again when tried to shove the duvet between her and the pillows he had stacked on the floor, which made that job rather easy. Hiiyeh settled back down after he stepped away, very gingerly as if she thought the duvet was some kind of trap.

A little grumpy about her still mistrusting him, he walked back in to the kitchen and peeled a banana. Before biting in to it, though, he fought with himself about offering some food to his guest.

His good side prevailed and he walked back to Hiiyeh.

Well, she let him get pretty close now. Exactly one arm's length instead of the three she had previously relegated him to. That was progress of some sort.

Instead of directly handing her the banana, though, he directly bit the tip off. Just to show that it was good to eat.

"Okay?"

She just looked at him, then gingerly took the banana and sniffed at it, then took a small bite. Good enough for him, he figured, as he got back up and walked back in to the kitchen. Ryan needed something that would stuff the hole that had formed in his stomach in the last, oh, probably twenty hours? Well, he had had some sandwiches not too long ago.

To fill that, he would need lots and lots of cheese. He also felt somewhat tired again. A look at the clock on the wall told him that it was three am. Damn.

After taking a breath, Ryan opened the cupboards and took out the bread again, then reconsidered. He wanted something hot. Or at least sort of hot. His good side also told him that his guest should be able to eat it. His evil side told him that he could touch some side-boob if he helped her over to the table, but Ryan dismissed that idea as soon as it popped up.

He first had to figure out why she didn't trust him.

The food had to be finger friendly. And edible for her.

...and easy to make, because he really did not feel like fixing something complicated.

"Wyhen."

He halted in his steps, suddenly worried that she might get up again and walked in to the living room. She only met him with a raised eyebrow.

Question.

Question what?

What was he doing? Hiiyeh's eyes were alternating between him and the kitchen. Probably.

"Food."

She looked at him, obviously not understanding.

How should he make it clear to her what he was planning on doing? He kneaded his chin, closed his eyes, furrowed his brow and stroked his hair back. His eyes wandered around the room, then got stuck on the banana. That was food.

Epiphanies of a tired brain. And from there on he winged it.

He pointed at the banana and said "Food", again. Then put his hands together, leaving only a small space between them. After that he gestured at the kitchen, followed by gesturing 'big' in it's direction, as if he were to hug a large tree. That gesture he then turned around and lowered, as if he were to put the big tree in front of her.

She stared at him, an eyebrow still raised.

He figured that that had been to complicated or he was just too stupid at this hour to figure out a way to explain it to her.

"Wait."

He could tell she wasn't satisfied, but ignored it and walked back in to the kitchen, whipped up some bannock dough and threw it in to the pan, lacing every other one with cheese. When he had produced six flat pieces of bannock, he took some tomatoes, ham and cream cheese with him, as well as jam and sat down opposite to her.

Unlike with the banana, Hiiyeh seemed to know very well what bannock was. She still insisted he take the first bite, but once she was sure it was fine, she ate quick. After he took some of the cream cheese and jam by dipping a piece of bannock in them, she tried those too, but stopped eating and just looked as he ate a piece of ham, to the point where it made him so uncomfortable that he slowly put the ham back down. She gave him another long stare, then slowly resumed eating.

From that, Ryan deduced that Hiiyeh was probably vegetarian.

It made sense, sort of. She was part horse, right? No, she was... What exactly was she? He felt himself starting to lose thoughts again. It was time to get back to sleep, this entire interruption had been more than interesting enough.

The only problem was, he was still hungry and Hiiyeh had managed to eat four of the bannock loaves while he only got two.

He took one of the tomatoes and ate it, keeping eye contact with her to show that this was safe too. She cautiously took one, did her usual ritual of sniffing, then bit in to it.

Ryan turned around, still chewing on his and went back in to the kitchen to make more loaves and was sure that by the time he would return, there wouldn't be a single tomato left.

He was right.

By the time he returned, there were no more tomatoes. There also wasn't any more cream cheese and Hiiyeh was rifling through her pelts. He noticed that she had put the pelt that had partially broken off back on and looked closer. It seemed very similar too her own fur, only the colours didn't quite match. The pelt was coffee brown and had a few white spots on it, randomly dispersed.

He set down the bannock, got a few more bananas, more cream cheese and returned again to see her waiting for him. Ryan sat down and this time Hiiyeh did not force him to eat first, he just did before she could ask.

The impromptu meal was good and he was quite full after having eaten four loaves and Hiiyeh had considerably slowed down just as she reached the end of the eighth.

When he got up to take the rest of the food back to the kitchen, she interrupted him and just shook her head.

No more food for her.

He nodded and stored everything. Then he killed all the lights and sat back down on the couch, which Hiiyeh watched with some interest until he had snuggled underneath the blanket and turned away from the fire. Her sitting shadow against the wall was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes.

Ryan was awoken by loud banging against the front door. It sounded like someone was using a battering ram. Once more, he jumped out of the blankets and ran, this time for the old surplus rifle next to the entrance. He opened a small box on a night stand like table, pulled out one of the en bloc clips and pushed it in to the rifle. Usually, the rifle would now shut with a satisfying metal on metal 'SHRAK.' In order not to warn whoever was outside, Ryan carefully slid the bolt forwards instead. Then he opened the inner door and waited for a break in the hammering.

"Wait! I'll get dressed!"

The moment he entered the living room with a rifle in hand was the moment he seemingly lost all progress with Hiiyeh. She recoiled, pushed herself against the stacked wood behind her and looked at him with huge eyes, frozen or lacking a way out.

Ryan stopped in his tracks, looked at her and saw her look at the rifle.

Oh. So she knew what that was? But not how a tap worked? Huh. Then he considered the ramifications of someone finding her here.

Whoever was outside didn't need to know about this, about her.

He slowly put the rifle down on the couch, then approached her. Her eyes were still huge and she made ready to defend herself, but without enough effort for him to take her seriously. He knelt down beside her and gesture with two fingers that he would like her to walk. Then he pointed in the direction of the kitchen.

She nodded, then started to get up. Ryan lifted her arm on her bad side, put it over his shoulders and lifted her up that way. Together, they quickly hobbled towards the hall and then they turned in to his bedroom. It was cold here, but that couldn't be changed right now. Hiiyeh managed to carefully sit down on the bed without too much obvious pain, then smiled as Ryan quickly draped a duvet over her. He put a finger to his lips, which she obviously did not understand.

It didn't matter.

He returned in to the living room, put on some of the fleece he usually wore underneath his snow clothing, grabbed the rifle, put his revolver on his hip for good measure and approached the door again.

"Who are you?"

The voice of an older man answered.

"Open the door! It is cold out here!"

Who in the hell would go all the way out here in this shitty weather? It wasn't like it was easy to find his place either. If this guy was trying to rob or kill him, nobody would find out for months.

"How many of you are there?"

"Just me and my dogs!"

Dogs? Dogs out here were either transport in combination with a sleigh or furry guided missiles.

"How many dogs?"

"A few!"

So transport then. Nobody needed a few of the furry missile type. You'd just get a rifle instead.

Ryan unlocked the door and opened it, the rifle in his other hand, pointed towards the ceiling.

An old native American stood in front of him. He looked right at home up here with the grey garments draped over heavy furs which were apparently intended to keep him warm. The colour was unusual and gave him a somewhat broody and dangerous look. He had pushed the bandanas out of his face to let Ryan see him. What Ryan's eyes were first drawn to, though, was the huge wolf's head the man wore on top of the fabric his head was wrapped in.

The dogs were not the huskies Ryan had expected but were almost indistinguishable from wolves. They had yellow eyes and the dirty looking and drab fur usually associated with the pack animals.

That gave him pause, but the old man was right. It was seriously cold outside.

"Alright. Come on in."

"Thank you."

The English of the Indian definitely had some accent to it, but it was a weird mixture of the usually clear cut way of speaking heard in the first nations and something that sounded almost British.

Ryan moved aside and let him pass, then looked somewhat warily at the five 'dogs' that followed.

"What kind of dogs are those?"

Ryan shut the door just as the man answered.

"They are not dogs. They are wolves."

Ryan's head flung around and stared at the man.

"They will not harm you."

Ryan's incredulous stare wasn't diminished by that.

"They are wolves, aren't they? And I don't see a lot of food outside."

The old man repeated his words once more as the wolves were sniffing the air, like ordinary dogs would and looked around. Had he locked the bedroom doors? Probably not. He needed to do that.

"They will not harm you."

Ryan just looked at the wolves. Two of them were staying by the man's side, though still curiously sniffing the air and looking around, while the others were slowly exploring his living room and hall. Something was weird about these wolves.

He pulled himself out of his reverie.

"Can I offer you something? A glass of water, something to eat?"

The old man nodded slowly and Ryan pointed to the living room and the kitchen.

"Make yourself comfortable. I need to do something really quick, I'll be back in a second."

He waited until the old man had turned around and was walking in to the living room, then quickly went to the bedroom door and locked it. Before he could go around and lock the other side, though, the old man called from the kitchen.

"Don't bother!"

Don't bother?

"I already know about your guest!"

He already knew. Of course he would. Why else would he come out here. Ryan stopped in his tracks and slowly walked in to the kitchen, rifle in his hand.

"Sit with me."

The old man had taken some of the furs of, but the wolf's head remained perched on his own. He was sitting at the dinner table, relaxed and definitely tired, two of the wolves next to him.

Ryan slowly reached for one of his chairs, pulled it back and sat down, rifle across his lap. Then the old Indian quickly produced a gun and aimed it so fast that Ryan had no chance of doing anything in his still not yet fully awake state.

It looked odd in his hands. It was a fairly new semi automatic handgun.

"Your guest. Do you know what she is?"

Ryan didn't move a hair and looked at the firearm pointed at his chest.

"Talk."

He looked up at the eyes of the man pointing the gun at his face.

"No."

The old Indian visibly relaxed, lowered the gun, then tucked it away somewhere.

"Good."

He looked at Ryan intensely.

"These things are my tribe's ancient enemy. They have been here much longer than the Europeans. They are the true enemy of all first nations."

"What are they?"

"The spirits created them to test us. They made us an enemy we could not overcome on our own."

He gestured towards the wolves around him and Ryan suddenly realized that wolves could have easily left behind the marks on Hiiyeh's thigh. He looked at the wolves again and they stared back, calmly. There was definitely something odd about these.

"What did they do to you?"

The old man stared in to his eyes.

"They took our children. The spirits told us they ate them."

That sounded incredibly extreme. But it also rung a bell in Ryan's head. Hiiyeh had seemed disgusted by him eating meat. Before he could interrupt, the old man switched topics.

"The one you have in your house is a murderer, sent away by her own kind."

"How do you know that?"

"She has to wear the fur of her kill as punishment."

Ryan still felt queasy about the eating children part, but that explained the brown fur. If Hiiyeh had killed another one of her kind and had been punished by having to wear her or his hide, that explained why she was wearing that thing even in bed.

"Are you with the police then? And how come I have never heard about any of this before?"

"I am one of the men from my tribe. We search and find them. You have never heard about this because only our tribe remembers. Nobody else can ever know."

The old man suddenly stopped. Ryan took a second, then realized what he had said and the look of the old man told him it meant what Ryan though it meant: Nobody could ever know.

The old man drew again, but this time Ryan was quicker. He unholstered his revolver and ripped through the trigger, firing the first round under the table just as the old man was lining up his shot.

BOOOM.

The old man was kicked over and Ryan's firing hand crashed in to the underside of the table, pushed up by recoil. His revolver was the biggest one on the market, the only one that stood a chance against a grizzly. Against a mere man, it was just overkill.