A Night by My Fire

Her ass hit the ground, the rocky shore digging into her butt. Cold, sopping wet, and pissed off, she barked, “If you want something to panic about, it should be the coming dark, not abusing the woman who saved your life!”

She knew he was in shock. It was clear from the way he trembled and the settling confusion in his bloodshot eyes. Not that it made him any ounce less an asshole.

Her muddy boots came into his line of sight. There was hardly any time for the stranger to snarl before River had the nerve to strike him in five concurrent blows on his back. His body reacted and he spit up again, the liquid flowing past his lips and landing right on her feet. He wheezed, sputtered, and then the bastard had the audacity to look up and actually growl at her.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” she said, cocking her chin once toward the frozen river. “You think I wanted to wade into that shit? Now, get on your feet or freeze to death and waste the life I just gave you.”

Standing, throwing one of her long braids over her shoulder, again she offered the stranger a hand, her eyes warning that if he didn’t take it, she would leave him to die. All the male did was stare up at her, as if measuring her, as if debating some great matter. She knew what he found in the appraisal: a filthy, wet woman. A woman with mud smeared all over, glowering at him, her own return gaze anything but friendly.

She was also shivering, every bit as cold as he was.

She’d been out in the elements too long. But River waited, her hand extended, her glare challenging. A palm came up, gripped her about the elbow. She mirrored his hold and he let her help him to his feet.

He almost fell right back down. One of his ankles was badly damaged.

“Right,” she grunted, frowning at his twisted boot. “Put your arm about me.”

The damn limb was heavy. He gripped too hard when she huddled to his side and rolled her shoulder, shifting the weight of her rifle to accommodate the press of his body.

There was no time for talk, no need in her mind to make any type of introductions, not with the swell of the sun’s orange disk descending behind the mountains. She took a step, he followed, allowing her to bear a portion of his weight, and together they moved into the dark of the woods.

The scent of cedar, the smell of cold crushed plant life, was sharp in each deep inhalation as she cursed him, barking orders that only earned her another death threat of a glare. “Move your ass! We still have half a mile to hike and you’re never going to make it crawling like a baby.”

The tree line blocked a portion of the biting wind, but the air was icy cold, their breath visible. Yet she sweated into her wet clothing, winded from the labor of dragging the steroid addled idiot up the mountain to shelter.

They crested a rocky summit, the scent of the air took on the fragrance of wood smoke, and she smiled, a thing the man did not see. He did, however, see the small log cabin buried farther up in a copse of trees.

For the briefest of seconds, she felt her companion hesitate, glancing up to find his eyes locked on hers. She met that murderous gaze, suspecting he was thinking of how much bigger he was, how much stronger even injured. Her eyes were black, the pupils almost indistinguishable. It was there he glared, his blue irises lacking everything hers had in abundance.

Life. River was full of life. And she had given a portion of it to him—to a stranger.

Waiting ahead was her home, a small box made of logs that lacked electricity. And depending on where his thoughts progressed, she might never make it thos

e final steps.

As if she could feel him weigh his options, she read the threat under his deeper contemplation. And knew she was not the type of woman he was familiar with.

By the look of him, unfamiliar things were vastly unsettling.

When he flexing the arm around her much smaller shoulders, her cargo sniffed the air, cycling fresh breath scented with the smell of her sweat and the fishy waters freezing in their clothing.

One curve of his elbow, one wrench, and he could snap her neck.

His eyes shined with malicious temptation. Lodging was waiting, River certain he was considering she might possess supplies, first aid necessities… transportation.

Her thin shoulder lurched under his arm, signaling that now was not the time to stop for a chat. Her teeth showed white against the tawny warmth of her skin. “Move!”

An unsteady voice barked, oddly intoned and not at all what she’d expected. “No one orders me.”

She could swear there was an unspoken, not anymore, in his statement. After all, a bruised ego was an easy thing to smell on a man.

When she spoke again, her voice was just as nasty and baiting as the first time. “Move now, or make the way yourself. I’m cold.”

Her boots shuffled forward, he followed in sync, and the stranger did move. A few more minutes and she was jerking the latch and kicking her door inward. There was no lock on her house, nothing to keep the dark things out, and even in his weakened state River could see he marveled at it. That his eyes kept checking to see if what he found was accurate.

The sound of the door banging into the interior wall was nothing compared to her groan as she sagged, exhausted.

Swallowing, she sucked in a breath and shuffled the pair of them through the miniscule living area to where a basic table and chairs were situated near a small, rudimentary kitchen.