Into the Cold

Once back at his main camp, Caleb carried the still unconscious woman inside and put her onto his bed. Leaving her momentarily, he quickly unloaded the sled, storing it away before going back to her side.

With hands, agile after years of trapping and skinning, he used one of his skinning knives to remove her clothes. Seeing a naked woman for the first time in almost five years stirred his groin painfully. Despite the cuts and bruises that criss-crossed her flesh she was stunning, her lacy undergarments doing nothing to ease his lust.

Shaking his head at such thoughts, Caleb fed his stove more wood, put a kettle full of water on it to warm and grabbed his stock of first aid supplies. The woman’s face was covered in small cuts and scratches, except the large gash that ran from her eyebrow to her hairline looked in need of stitches.

Her torso, arms and legs were covered with large, irregular bruises and, as he’d thought, with her clothes off he could tell her shoulder was definitely dislocated.

Crawling over her, trying in vain to ignore how soft her body was, Caleb lifted her arm into the air. Placing his foot into her armpit, he gave it one powerful jerk feeling it pop back into its socket with a sickening, popping sound.

The woman moaned slightly when he did this, but still did not wake.

Crawling back over her, he rummaged through his supplies and found several rolls of fabric. Using these he gently lifted the woman and carefully wrapped her arm to her chest, pinning it tightly in place to make sure it healed properly.

He then began to assess the rest of her body. Placing his hands on her abdomen he pressed gently to make sure her abdomen was soft and not full of blood or fluid. After a thorough exam, he found no other major injuries aside from the large gash on her forehead and her shoulder.

Caleb took a large bowl from a shelf and filled it with hot water. He then took one of his few truly clean clothes and some soap powder to work up a lather before returning to the woman’s side.

Carefully, starting with her head, he washed her bruised and cut body all the way down to her toes. Thankfully his emergency training had taken over and he was able to do so with detachment. When she was finally clean, he took two of his heaviest blankets and put them over her making sure the edges were tucked in tightly around her.

He hadn’t dragged her five miles and worked so hard for her to die of exposure. Now he turned his full attention to the oozing laceration on her forehead.

Pouring the dirty water out into the snow, Caleb filled the bowl again, adding more soap and set about stitching the wound closed. Upon closer inspection as he deep cleaned the opening he sent a thanks to whatever God had been watching over her when he saw that it wasn’t as bad as he feared. While the cut was long, it didn’t go as deep as he’d originally thought.

Taking some thread and a needle from his mending kit, and opening one of his precious alcohol packs Caleb cleaned them both thoroughly. After taking a deep, calming breath he began to stitch, trying to make sure that there wouldn’t be a horrible scar left behind when he was done. Thankfully, the woman remained unconscious for this procedure as well, making the job, if not easier, less stressful for him.

When it was all over, Caleb allowed himself a deep swig of whiskey which he usually only used for medicinal purposes. Taking a second gulp from the bottle he looked down at the woman in his bed and wondered what had happened to her. There was no mark on her that indicated an animal attack, but that still didn’t explain how she’d ended up in the middle of nowhere covered in cuts and bruises. Was that boom he’d heard a plane or helicopter crash?

Had she somehow managed to survive and just coincidentally stumbled into his camp? That would explain a lot, but he knew he’d have to wait until she woke up to get the whole story from her.

Gently stroking her across the top of the head, Caleb shook his head. What was he going to do with her?

Sighing at the conundrum she presented, he set about making himself a place to sleep on the floor next to his own bed. If she woke in the night, he wanted to be able to stop her from wandering. Using the bear fur he’d wrapped her in to bring her here extinguished all but one of his lanterns knowing he’d need the light if she did waken and lay down between his bed and the stove.

Over the next two days, Amelia drifted in and out of consciousness, never truly aware of the world around her. Caleb checked on her hourly, readjusting the blankets if she had thrown them off, spooning water onto her parched lips and gently re-adjusting her body to prevent bedsores.

On the third day, Amelia finally awakened, thirsty and very confused.

“Dale,” she rasped, reaching into empty air for someone.

“Hush,” an unfamiliar voice said, as a rough, calloused hand took hers.

“Hush,” the voice repeated. “You’re safe.”

“Dale,” Amelia sobbed, wanting him to be there with her.

“Dale isn’t here,” the voice said in a tone one would use on a child. “My name is Caleb.”

“Where’s Dale?” she begged, tears forming in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the voice soothed, stroking her forehead, “there wasn’t anyone with you when I found you.”

Amelia looked in the direction of the voice, seeing a stranger’s face obscured by a thick growth of dark facial hair. In fear, she tried to move away, but stopped at the jolt of pain radiating simultaneously from her left shoulder and forehead.

“No, no,” Caleb cautioned softly, “don’t move. You dislocated your shoulder and I had to reset it.”

“I…,” Amelia faltered, beginning to feel lightheaded. “ I…”

“It’s okay,” the man said, again trying to soothe her. “You rest. In a little while we can talk more.”

Amelia nodded her agreement, too exhausted by their short conversation to argue.