Deep in the woods, the water dripped from the leaves in thick rivers. The sky had opened up for the past few days and everything was quiet, so quiet. Nothing to do out there in the rain, save for huddling somewhere warm and dry and waiting for it to pass. It lightened up yesterday, but the clouds proved deceitful, opening back up the drench the forest within the hour. Shame, such a shame. The world could have come alive again, but the heavens forbid it. Too much activity down below. Everything needed a break to rest and recuperate. Fair enough. Summer had been productive and fruitful and autumn was close enough to start thinking about that work, so a break between the two to catch some rest was more than welcome. But it had gone on too long, much too long and the denizens of the forest were getting restless with the prolonged stillness.
A house sat at the base of a great tree in the woods, the frame wrapping around the truck and crawling upwards like a hungry mouth. Slowly rising, stopping on the second story, and almost collapsing underneath its own weight. So low and squat and small, a part of the tree more than anything else. Ramshackle and cobbled together from whatever was on hand. Still, it stood against the storm and showed no signs of relenting against the continuous onslaught, not now, not ever.
The rain collided with the patchwork house, dripping through the cracks and gaps placed at strategic intervals. So long, it took so long to lay the wood and the gutters in just the right way to make the rain babble like a stream as it collected from the roof and pooled in the barrel. But they did it. They did it and it was worth the occasional draft that slipped on in with the water. All the drafts did anyway was give them the excuse to wear more furs and huddle closer together. Even in the winters as the snow melted, they got the same effect and could chase away the chill with a comfortable fire in the hearth and a hearty meal.
Lina stretched and yawned from the cushions in front of the fireplace crackling away. She didn't really need to start one, but it just felt right, and she needed the heat to be comfortable. No one could blame her for that. Nobody at all. And she would need a fire at some point to cook whatever came back, so really, she was getting ahead of the game. Proactive, that was the word, one of the better ones she had learned over the past little while.
A crack of thunder shattered the soft patter of rain and Lina flinched. She should be better than that, not jumping at the rumble, but she did, and she knew, and she was lucky no one else was around to see. No one should see her like that, no one at all. And no one did. There was only her, in the midst of a storm, and a fire crackling and the promise of food on the way. That was something to look forward to. Meat and fat and skin broiled and hot and glistening and that was all she wanted. Really. She was hungry and the pantry for her little hut was out in the rain and she didn't want to do that. Sure, the fire would heat her back up and dry her skin. But it would be unpleasant for a moment, and that was the grand struggle. Continued struggle now with the knot in her stomach but remain warm and dry. Or venture out into the storm for the handful of minutes to gather some dried and pickled things to fill her body until true sustenance returned.
So many things to fill her body would come back and she would be warm and dry and full, so full, full of everything warm and tasty and nice.
Gregor was gone and she missed him terribly. A peal of thunder crashed down on the hut at the base of the tree and Lina jumped again. He had seen her jump at the thunderclaps and he always touched her and held her when it came. That was nice. He was not here now, and she just had the thunder and the flame to keep her company. The fire was nice. The thunder and lightning less so. The rain was welcome for a bit, but there was a clear line that it had crossed. The distinct lack of Gregor in her presence contributed to her anxiety that the storm only exacerbated. Another fun word. Not quite as good as proactive, but still useful.
Two days, he had been gone for two days, leaving when the gaps in the clouds appeared. He needed to hunt and bring food back to their house. They weren't running low, per se, but the larder had dipped enough to be replenished. And that's why he wasn't here, with her, sitting by the fire and holding one another against the thunder and the rain. And Lina did not like it at all.
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Gregor pushed the thick strands of hair from his eyes, matted down with the ever-present rainfall. One in particular always seemed to slip through the tie that held the rest of its brethren back, a rebel, an outcast, an individual that dares to disturb the universe. There is nobility in that act, but not now, not in this way. He pushed it back and tried to stuff it into the tail at the back of his head. When he got back, he might finally relent and let Lina braid his hard and then they would match. The thought filled him with an odd warmth that helped chase away the chill of the rain.
He had known much worse colds than this drizzling rain. Harsh biting winters where the wind was like knives, where the eyes froze if opened, where limbs turned black and icy and dead. Snow piled over his head, trapping people inside, suffocating and starving. Still, not pleasant and Gregor would rather not be here anymore. But he had to be here. He had to get food.
He stood over the river, watching the water. So much water and so many shadows darting in and out of his awareness. His spear shifted in his hand. His sword would pulverize the pour things and he wanted them whole until he got back to his home. Fresh, whole fish was better than rotting fish paste. Lina would like that. And he would like that. He wanted to bring back a deer, but the rain washed away all signs of those. So, fish it was. He stabbed downwards and the shadow darted away. Nothing. Less than nothing. Just a slightly more wet stick in his hands. He threw it away. Wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth it at all. It splashed in the mud as Gregor waded into the water.
Cold, so cold, mud squishing around his toes with every step. Not fun, making his skin crawl. Not fun at all. And now he could feel the things swirling around his legs as he went deeper and deeper. They were mocking him, taunting him with their presence every second, they made contact. But he has options now. So many options. Slowly wading forward, going through the surging current towards the rocks on the other bank. Tools in his hand only made the process slower. He knew the world and what to do and any attempt to elevate the process made it more difficult than it should be.
Fish, there were fish underneath the rock, hidden away from the rain and the current, small things, but enough in their combined weight to put int a pot and make something warm and heavy to sit in their stomachs and chase away the chill. This may not be the worst type of cold, but it was persistent, absolutely unrelenting. A gentle pressure into his soul that would not stop. But he could manage. Hands into the water, slicing the current around his body. He would not wear down to the water. He would not bow to the pressure. He needed fish to bring back home and he would not leave until he had his arms burning from their weight. Lina would be happy and that would be worth it. He smiled.
Soft belly of scaly fish underneath the rock. His fingers trailed their length. Soft, so soft and gentle his touch and they fell into a trance, docile and complacent and still. The other hand, quick and precise, shot forward and crushed their skull with a soft crack. One fish in his hand and he threw it to the bank on the other side. He needed more, weightier things in his grasp, but the river provided. There were more fish to fell underneath his grasp.
His hands liked the work, the switch between gentle and crushing, soft and hard, the rhythm and switch beating into his palm. So many fish underneath that one rock so many to take back to the den and greet Lina with. She likes fish. She likes anything, really, so long as it is flesh. She certainly likes taking him in her mouth and Gregor liked that in turn. He stuck his arm deep, scouring for the last little critter to pluck from safety and bring back out. Up to the elbow and he found nothing. Past his bicep and still nothing. Only when he reached his shoulder did something finally make itself known.
A large mouth engulfed his fist and he felt something give as he crushed and squeezed and pulled. And he pulled something still thrashing and biting out from the deep recesses of the rock, flexing and tightening, the machinations of his insides trying to wrench whatever laid at the end of his arm.
Another fish, large and heavy writhed and spasmed as he held it up to the rain. Gregor smiled. Lina would like this. It was a large fish, muscle and fat bloating its body and giving it strength. It even had funny little whiskers around its mouth. Gregor liked this fish. The fight in it was strong, even thrust into the open air. The rain might have something to do with that. Its opposite made it a little more like its home. But Gregor refused to let go and the grand fish refused to let go, and there was really only one way to end this.
Gregor brought his fist down on the rock, carrying the fish with it. The poor thing didn't stand a chance. A crack and it was still. Heavy, so heavy now as the mouth relaxed around his arm. This was enough. More than enough really, but he would be coming back from a cold and knowing Lina, she could eat just as much as he could. A problem in the long run, but right now, he had a bushel of fish and monster on his hand to bring back to his den for his mate. It was a good day, despite the rain.
A lone peal of thunder split the sky and made him jump. Shameful, just a loud noise from far away, nothing to be worried about. It just startled him was all, no real threat. The second the frightened pulse calm, he thought of Lina. She didn't like the thunder, something about big storms from her home that threatened to wash her whole existence away. It never did, but it always came a little too close.
