The Hunter's Cabin
Warmth and comfort surrounded me when I awoke, but fear swiftly followed. I was in an unfamiliar fur-covered bed. Staying very still, I listened for sounds. My memories were foggy, but my horrible ordeal rushed back to me like a bone-chilling dip in an icy pond. I had fled my home at dusk to escape an arranged marriage. The wilderness surrounding my father's property was a mystery to me. My upbringing taught me etiquette, not survival. My arms were scratched and bleeding after crashing through hedges and briers during my frantic run. A wolf had caught my scent and chased me off a jagged outcrop into a stream. A short fall ended with pain in my leg as a boulder arrested my descent. Sitting in freezing water with no escape, the wolf's growls drew closer. The beast would have me for supper, and no one would ever know. I was sadly inclined to my horrible fate at that point. I wanted the damn wolf to eat me and be done with it, a brutal release from my joyless life.
Pain and exhaustion were stealing my clarity as I prepared for the end, but a gunshot sharpened my senses. Anguished yelping preceded another blast, then everything fell silent. Approaching footsteps sent panic throughout my spent body. I feared my father's rifleman had found me. He would mercilessly drag me back to my horrible existence. I considered drowning myself to escape him, but an unfamiliar man appeared through the underbrush, causing me to hesitate. He was tall and completely clad in fur and leather. He held a rifle. A bow and quiver adorned his shoulder. His head and face were wrapped to keep out the cold. Only his eyes were visible, and they were rather unearthly. I had never seen such piercing gray eyes before. They were filled with amazement at the sight of me, and that's the last thing I could recall.
There had been no sounds, so I slowly pushed the fur blanket down and peeked around the room. It looked like a hunter's cabin, judging by the furs strung about and the weapons hung by the door. It wasn't fancy, but it had all the essentials of a home. It was charming in its simplicity. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers. It was evening, judging by the light outside the small window by the bed. Snow was clinging to the window panes.
I carefully rolled over and winced. My leg was throbbing. I also badly needed some water. Slowly sitting up, I lowered my leg over the side of the bed. Blood rushed into it, making me more aware of the injury. The pain brought tears to my eyes, but it was bearable after a minute. My whole body ached with exhaustion and hunger. I was completely naked. The gray-eyed stranger had stripped off my wet clothes. I blushed at that realization. A tin cup full of water sat on a stool beside the bed. I slowly drained it. It had a funny aftertaste that tingled on my tongue. It warmed me inside and out, easing the ache in my limbs. I gathered the fur blankets around me as I admired the quaint little cabin. A carved beam over the door declared the name "Aimon Rosemoor."
"Maybe that's my rescuer's name," I whispered.
Suddenly, the door latch snapped up out of its cradle with a thump. Someone outside had pulled the rope that fed through a small hole in the door. I jumped at the sound and stared wide-eyed as the door swung open. The fur-covered stranger stepped in, looking the same as he did when I saw him by the stream. His piercing gray eyes jumped to mine a second later. I blushed and pulled the furs tighter around me.
"Hello," I stammered.
He nodded as he closed the door behind him. He turned his back to me and removed his bow and gun. He hung the items on the wall by the door without looking up. He had obviously been doing it for years and knew exactly where the nails were. He retrieved a large knife from the wall and disappeared out the door again. I stared after him in confusion. He was obviously a man of few words. He came back a few minutes later with a skinned rabbit in his hand. I figured that would be supper. The thought of food made my stomach rumble. The stranger glanced at me again as he crossed the room and dropped the rabbit into an iron pot over the fire. I got the feeling he wasn't used to having company. I relaxed a little as he threw logs on the glowing embers, bringing the fire back to life.
He walked to the door and pulled the rope in before placing the plank in its cradle, locking the door for the night. Then he began to remove his heavy fur coat and hood. I watched curiously as he unwrapped his head. I would finally get to see the man who saved me. I was surprised by the full head of messy black hair hidden underneath. He removed his face scarf last, and my mouth dropped open a little. He was much younger than I first thought, and he was absolutely lovely. His chin and cheekbones were well defined. They complimented his shapely nose and full lips. His skin was olive in tone, making his gray eyes shine even more under his thick eyebrows. His messy black hair touched his forehead and cheeks, adding to his rugged allure.
I watched curiously as he moved about the room, preparing supper. He made some tea and filled it with herbs I couldn't identify. I was straining to watch him in the little kitchen in the corner. He finally brought the finished product over to me. I studied his handsome face as he put a warm cup in my hand. He was studying me too.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Suddenly, he reached over and placed his warm hand against my forehead. He was checking my temperature like a mother would do to a child. It caused a blush to rush into my cheeks. I could smell his skin at that point. It made me feel warm all over. He smelled like cedar and rosemary. He smiled thoughtfully to find me fever-free. When he drew away, I caught a glimpse of a nasty scar on his throat. It looked like it had been there for many years. I quickly realized the old injury could be the reason for his lack of words. He might not be able to speak at all.
I finished the delicious tea and placed my empty teacup beside the tin cup on the stool. I watched my rescuer as he chopped vegetables and tossed them into the pot with the rabbit. His sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, allowing me to admire his forearms.
Once the stew was well on its way, he cleaned his hands and approached me again. He sat on the floor beside the bed and slowly picked up my injured leg. I gasped in pain from the gentle movement. My blush returned as he carefully examined the back of my leg, feeling it up and down with his fingers. I finally noticed a line of neat stitches close to the back of my knee. He carefully examined that area. He even smelled the wound for infection. I felt his nose brush my leg, and it sent a shudder up my back. He sighed as if he were displeased with something. He retrieved a glass jar from a box under the bed. It was full of clear gel. He scooped some out and rubbed it on the stitches. I gasped and winced in pain, but it quickly eased. The gel was a potent medicine. I felt sleepy as I breathed in the strong smell. He wrapped my leg with clean linen before he coaxed me to lie down. I fell asleep within a minute of hitting the pillow.
