Winters Woe Ch. 06

Chapter 6

Frozen Freefall

[Derrick]

It may have been freezing out, but the heat in my chest warded away any cold. I couldn't quite figure out why I was so mad. Being asked to leave was an inevitability, one that--I guess, arrived sooner than expected. Maybe curiosity wanted me to stay? There was more to Bjarke's story, and I may have wanted to learn the rest of it.

Now I was walking with wind pushing me side to side--my immediate surroundings blurred by snow that the wind had kicked up. When it got so bad that I couldn't even see the ground, I took a knee and pulled out what I assumed was a map out of the forest. My eyes failed to gleam any information, and, in frustration, I stuffed the map back inside the backpack.

Front, back, left, and right--all sides blurred by aggressive flurries. There was no turning around because discerning where 'back' even was proved impossible. My best bet was to find a big tree and huddle under its branches. The new problem was that every tree in the damned forest had up and vanished, leaving me to be pelted by the harsh conditions swirling all around.

There was an intrinsic hesitation to every step forward, similar to the hesitation found when walking with one's eyes closed. There could be a steep drop-off ahead and I'd have no way of knowing.

Had I acted childishly back at the cabin? A question I asked myself a few times, the kneejerk response being simple ... yes, yes, I had. I guess I was just butthurt. It's not like I cared about the guy or anything. I barely knew him. Maybe I just felt like we were growing closer. I mean, I definitely wanted to sleep with him, that much I'm certain of; it wasn't often that I ran into someone who could so easily turn me on. However, there was much more to him that piqued my interest.

Have I been sticking my nose where it doesn't belong? Maybe it's best that I do indeed just leave.

Wandering out in a blizzard wasn't doing much for me, not to mention my wounds weren't exactly fully healed. Best case scenario would be to find a path or some other signal as to where I was. "What I really need is for this damn wind to calm down for a fucking moment!" The wind was loud enough that my echo died out almost instantly.

I've heard the saying 'you ask, and you shall receive' but only now did I maybe start believing it. When the wind calmed--when the snow settled, I turned my head in all directions to gather my bearings. There was nothing immediately around me, but about twenty feet to my right was a cliff overlooking a stunning vista that showed miles of Alaskan nature.

'More beautiful than most things' would be an understatement. The sun provided a crystal-clear view, cutting through the stark reality of life. There are a lot of things I'd have given to stay stuck in that one moment.

Now that I could see, I consulted the map once again. Nothing around me spoke true to the map meaning I must have really wandered off course. I couldn't think of what to do, where to go; there was this defeated feeling swelling inside my stomach.

"I guess I'll just turn aroun-" I cut myself off in an effort to listen in on a faraway sound. The distance was palpable, but the sound still current. My ears perked, listening in, until I locked onto the correct direction. Closer and closer I came ... each step making it more obvious as to what was being called out... my name.

Bjarke was a ways away and even still I could tell it was him. It had only been twenty minutes or so since I stormed out of the cabin, making his joy at finding me a little odd. He was indeed joyful ... his big smile clear as day despite the distance between us. The closer that we got to each other the more relaxed Bjarke became. His shoulders slumped, his posture calmed, his face softened.

Now only forty feet away or so I could discern what it was he was saying. His words were not kind--rather, they were more akin to scolding. He would laugh a little after really laying into me, showing that he wasn't genuinely mad. That weirdly comforted me.

My keen vision realized that it wasn't just distance separating Bjarke and I, but also a relatively deep drop-off. There was a foot of snow that branched out beyond the actual edge of the cliff, disguised as stable footing. By the time I recognized the danger it was already too late.

Shouting a warning did no good as Bjarke had already place his full weight down upon the false floor. Brittle snow caved instantly, his body dropping like a log.

My movements were the quickest they've ever been. With my dagger unsheathed I lunged forward, narrowly catching Bjarke. The tip of my dagger was lodged into the top of the ledges edge, my hand wrapped firmly around Bjarke's forearm.

When the dagger had found shelter in the cliff, and the momentum of our fall was abruptly stopped, I felt a pop emanate from my shoulder. It hurt.

"Dammit! Remove the glove on your right hand!" Since I could feel the glove on his left hand slipping, I knew I would need a better grip. He did as I commanded, using his teeth to remove the glove on his other hand. "Now switch arms!"

Bjarke listened and slithered into the sleeve of my coat, wrapping firmly around my wrist with a death grip. Once he assured me that he was okay to switch, I let go of his left arm and quickly copied his actions--slipping my hand inside the sleeve of his coat ... latching onto his right forearm. His skin had better traction, making it easier to hold onto him. Every muscle and ligament in my right bicep screamed out while holding onto this fully grown man who weighed at least somewhere in the high one-hundreds. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep this up.

The dagger--our only lifeline--was stuck soundly and showed no signs of coming loose. My strength on the other hand was faltering, the exertion causing panic to set in. A few attempts to lift him only proved to Bjarke that I wouldn't be able to get him to safety, while his attempts to climb up me served as proof that we were screwed.

While frantically looking around, I caught sight of a solid chunk of rock wall. An idea came into focus. "Do you see the jutted-out rock to your right!?"

"Yeah, why?" He responded.

"Either we're both falling, or you're reaching that rock!"

I didn't need to see Bjarke to know that fear fell over top his face. "That's not happening! It's too far for me to reach!"

"Not if I throw you!" I argued.

"T-throw me!?"

"Not exactly throw ... but if I swing you, you should be able to reach it."

Bjarke was less than enthused by the idea, but when he realized that I was losing my grip, the idea must've seemed like a better alternative to death.

At first the momentum was low, but just like a swing set, it took some time before the back-and-forth swinging was amounting to anything. When he got to a point when I felt it was enough for him to make the jump, I consulted with him.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Not in the slightest. But go ahead."

"...You'll get one shot at this, alright?"

"There was no need to remind me of that." His words bitterly spoken made me realize that, yes, he was right.

When I let him go there was a pause in my breath. My blood, brain, and lungs received no oxygen during the entire maneuver. Only when he successfully grabbed the jutted-out pieces of cliff did I take in a gulp of air.

With him as safe as currently possible, and my body freed from the extra weight, I climbed back up. While on my hands and knees I shuffled over to him, offering my hand. Even though it was cold as hell outside, our hands were both sweaty. Despite that, I was able to pull him back up, where we both laid silently for a long, long while.

"You good?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"...Yeah. Maybe."

After getting to my feet, I extended my hand. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Bjarke led the way back to the cabin, where we exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. While taking off my coat and boots I watched on as he started up a nice fire, before moving to the kitchen to make something to eat. I could have spoken up, shared what was on my mind; instead, I opted to stay silent.

The fire warmed me while I sat in front of it, my hands outstretched as they desperately needed the warmth.

"Here." Said Bjarke as he handed me a bowl of porridge.

Hastily I took hold of the bowl, digging into its contents. Hunger overtook me--two different kinds in fact. The bowl's contents vanished, and I set it down on the ground with a resolute thud. Belly now full, the warmth hit me like a truck--my eyes couldn't help but notice the husky man eating away next to me. This frustrating heat infested my: neck, chest, arms, belly, and... groin. The nether regions were worked the hell up, ready for something... anything!

"Look, I find you really attractive. Not going to deny that," Although I doubt he hadn't noticed. "But I'm just going to be upfront with it." I pulled in a long drag of air. "Would you like to have sex with me?"

Bjarke looked at me with a face of many words. There was lust and desire, but also confusion and shock. Underneath it all was a little fear? Ethereal chains kept him in check, while my words chipped away at their hold.

There was a suffocating silence between us.

"You want to know why I wanted you to leave?" His words made my heart sink into the pit of my stomach.

"...Sure." I responded, flimsily.

"I have absolutely no self-control. It's so bad in fact that I've gotten stuck in some really messed up situations." His voice grey darker with each word. "Once, I got so black-out drunk--all because my friends wanted me to go overboard--that when I woke up the next morning, I was in a room, surrounded by a lot of prostitutes. Thankfully I managed to escape any diseases, but my money was gone, I couldn't find my phone, and all the public transportation was closed. I slept in an alley that night." The more he talked, the clearer it became for me. "Those types of situations happened often; however, when I woke up in jail with murder charges on me... that was when I drew a line in the sand."

At first, my breath caught in my chest, until I was able to find my words. "Did you kill someone?" Killing people might be my job but thinking of this sickeningly sweet guy doing something of the sort felt eerily wrong.

"No... thank God." Bjarke ran his fingers through his hair. "I was able to prove my innocence, the real culprit was caught, and everything returned to how it was. As sick as this might be to say ... if that girl hadn't been murdered on that specific night, and I had not been accused of doing the deed, I would have kept on behaving as I was; ending up dead one day from, well, a number of things, probably."

With all this deep talk, I realized how insensitive my earlier request for sex was. Especially when considering what we both just went through.

Sat in silence, warmed by the fireplace, our bodies fidgeted--almost--in unison. Between us was no longer silence, but an unknowing sense, one I couldn't decode. What was he thinking? What was he wanting? I needed the answers to the questions which seemed to promise quality rewards.

"You know dude, I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. Honestly, I just find you super attractive is all. And if you're not down to fuck, that's fine." My words were smooth and nonchalant.

On Bjarke's face was a spell of stillness, his gaze aimed at my direction; my peripheral vision informed me. Twelve minutes passed, after which time I turned my head to the right to meet his lasting eyes. The moment we faced each other it seemed like locks fell into place. Neither of us moved.

"If I go through with this, just know that I haven't made love to someone in little over a decade. I can't promise I'll be gentle." Those words rose the hair on my neck.

"...When did I ever say I wanted you to be gentle?" Bjarke's throat made a distinctive movement, like swallowing. "You sure though?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." He reassured.

"Okay then," I began to lean towards him. "Don't you go regretting this later."

Our lips, inches apart, creeped closer together. Ever, so, close...