Mountain Lore- Closed

[Perplexia]

“Remember who you are” were the last words her mother had said to her as she was pulled from her arms. That was three months and what seemed like thousands of miles of rough seas. Her village on the coast of Ireland had been raided by vikings, The elders had been slaughtered, there was no value in them as slaves. Men, women, and children separated and sold at different ports, as other slaves where added to the boats.

Shyla had been working on trying to loosen her ropes, rubbing them and trying to fray them every opportunity she had. This stop they were taking a group inland,for the most part it appeared that the vikings understood damaged merchandise wouldn’t sell. She was only 18, had she been back in her village she would be preparing for finding a husband. There was no telling what life would be ahead of her if she didn’t escape.

Lying down and accepting this fate that was forced upon her was not an option. For now she would keep her head down until she could get free. They stopped to make camp before nightfall. Her legs and arms were scraped from the brush. She was in better shape than a lot of those that were taken. Dehydrated, tired, and still showing some effects of the sea voyage caused many to collapse.

The fire crackled as embers jumped floating through the air. The captors drank and laughed celebrating the profit they were going to make off of selling their captives. Shyla continued to work on her ropes until a large shadow came over her. He squatted down and ran a finger over her cheek. Yanking her head away from him he gripped her mouth tightly bringing his face closer to kiss her. Biting his lip was purely a reaction from disgust and hatred. His response was a swift slap causing her head to smash back against the tree. Screaming caused the others to hear, the leader reached him just as he had begun to run his hands up her leg. She merely smiled wide at him with her bloody teeth as he was chastised.

Rubbing her tied hands against the tree the rope finally snapped. But she was going to have to wait until they settled for the night. Waiting was the hard part, that and the pain in her head. She was suddenly weary and tired. It was purely survivor mode that kept her eyes on watch. If she let her guard down there was a good possibility the Viking would come at her again. Eventually they settled and went to sleep leaving a couple on guard. Now was the time.

Carefully she reached down and untied her feet. Slowly and carefully she stayed low and snuck off into the dark. When embraced in the darkness she found a second breath. Her feet took flight as she dove into the darkness putting as much distance between her and her captures as she could. A place to hide is what she needed, perhaps a cave? For that she needed to climb. It would be so much easier if she could see. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Stopping for a moment to try to unmuddle her head. She tried to remember the terrain as they walked. There were mountains she just had to find the incline. Picking up the pace she kept going in the direction that was mapped in her brain.

When she finally reached it, she was beyond exhausted. But before she could rest she needed to find a place to hide. It was no easy feat going up in the pitch dark. Using her hand she felt for a grip and then used her feet to do the same. It was slow with a few missteps causing injuries of unknown magnitude. Yet still she worked through the pain and kept climbing until she reached a flat area. Finding what she hoped was a hidden area she curled up and covered herself with whatever she could find. She rested and fought sleep, waiting until the sun came up before starting to move again. It was easier now that she could see, and she pushed forward trying to cover her tracks the best she could. Water, she heard water, and headed to it. Reaching it she took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the waterfall and river.

Scooping the water in her hands she drank her fill before going in to wash. The water was cold but refreshing, and as much as she wanted to stay and enjoy it, she knew she had to keep moving. Staying in the water was the best way for her tracks to stay covered. The rocks were sharp and cut through the shoes she wore with ease. Still she moved forward until the water became rougher and she climbed onto the bank. Tearing her dress she wrapped her feet and started heading up. Just as she was about to reach another flat area she lost her footing and fell, snapping her leg.

She tried her hardest to muffle her scream. There was no telling if the vikings were tracking her, God she was so tired, she just wanted to sleep. Digging deep she searched around her for a a couple fallen branches. Using her dress she tore more from it to wrap the branches tight. Getting herself partially up she leaned against the wall of the mountain and began to use whatever was left of her strength to pull herself up the incline. Reaching the flat area she rolled and crawled till she was in what she estimated a hidden spot. “Just for a couple minutes” she told herself. Just a couple of minutes of sleep then she would keep going.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

He had lived upon the mountain for years.

How long was anyone's guess. He could not remember. Days, weeks, months, years, all were blurs. Too much time alone left his mind unsettled and unreliable. The thing that slept inside him did him little favors either, rending thought and memory apart as easily as it did anything else it touched. But still he survived, for reasons long lost to time, for a promise he could only remember he had made to someone of importance. Death could not, would not, claim him. But for the same reasons he had fled home he eschewed the company of others, for fear of the things that may happen.

He'd built a life for himself then, upon the mountains he now called home. He raised hardy mountain sheep, grew what few crops could survive the harsh environment, and hunted farther down the mountain during warmer months. Elk, deer, rabbit, mountain goats, all provided the meat to supplement his diet and furs to be traded in the only town he dared venture near. It was a long journey, made once a year, down the mountain slope to the hamlets and traders. Furs exchanged for those things he could not make himself, for replacements for tools broken, for medicines, for anything else that might be required.

Then it was back up the mountain, goods bundled into a pack upon his back, trudging doggedly onward and upward. Days travel took him far, back up the mountain no one else dared hunt, through forests that others called cursed. He rarely thought at all during the journey, moving more upon instinct and long ingrained memory than any real presence of mind. Time was measured more in the steps he took then the passage of sun and moon. Each night, his pack was laid to rest at familiar waystations, little hovels he'd long since carved out along the path to his home. Each day, his pack was taken up once more, to bridge another length of the journey.

It was half a day's travel from his home, following the stream that ran down the mountainside, that he found the first signs of something amiss. A break in the monotony of his journey, a sudden upheaval in the natural features of the wilderness around him. He paused in his step, mind rousing to sudden alert, though for a moment he could not place why. He found it as his eyes scanned the terrain, the spots of red, sharply contrasting the monotonous gray of rock and greens of the sparse foliage. He could only stare, for a moment unthinking. Then his legs carried him forward, off the path to his home, following the trail along the mountain side. He thought it was animal, wounded during hunt or accident, and perhaps a gift from nature to provide him meat and furs.

What he found instead was a woman, curled up, clothing ragged and torn, strips of cloth bound across her feet. She was injured, even from steps away he could see her leg bent wrong, the cuts and gashes, the scent of blood in the air. That too gave him pause, for what woman would dare come up the mountain in such a state, much less at all? Before he could second guess the decision, he was stepping forward, pack coming off his shoulder that he might kneel and examine her more closely. Her features were foreign, as alien to him as any, for the lack of interaction he had. Some deep, dark part of him would have him leave her, no doubt to her death, and food for carrion scavengers. A moment's hesitation, then what bits of humanity that still held sway had his attending to those wounds he could.

Her leg was set carefully, the woman's exhaustion somehow seeing her through the experience without waking, a splint to hold her leg straight and still, that she might heal properly. Other wounds were dressed as well as could be managed, a gash upon her head most concerning, wrapped in a spare bit of cloth. Soon enough he had pack replaced, the woman slung atop it as comfortably as could be managed. The weight nearly through him off, but it would not be too long until he made it home. A few hours more, perhaps a bit into the night with a slower pace, and then the relative safety of his small cabin.

----------------------

A crackling fire fought back the frigid mountain air, long after he'd made it back to his dwelling. He'd only the one bed, made of treated furs and wool taken from his sheep, which the woman had been tucked securely into. He himself rested within the lone stool, seated as near the fire as he could manage while a stew boiled away quietly, filling the small home with the scent of cooking meat and vegetables. He'd added more to the pot, in case his unexpected guest woke from her slumber. Beyond that, his body simply went through the motions, occasionally stirring the stew and otherwise waiting quickly, the shadows cast by the fire dancing across the walls.

 

[Perplexia]

Everything in her body screamed yet she couldn’t seem to open her eyes. Her lids were so heavy, yet the pain reminded her she was alive. There were brief moments as he carried her up the mountain that she saw shapes and shadows. Instead of going down the mountain he was taking her up. That meant he wasn’t a viking, it allowed a peace to overcome her. She would rest and be on her way. But right now all she wanted was sleep.

A heavenly smell caused her stomach to contract and remind her how hungry she was. She was so comfortable and warm that she couldn’t determine which was more important. . Her eyes fluttered slightly as the blurred image of the small cabin started coming into focus. The flickering fire sent shadows dancing around the cabin. Pulling her arms from under the fur blanket she rubbed her rope-burned wrists.

Trying to turn on her side she cried out, apparently she had hurt her ribs as well. Settling back she tried to slow her breathing. The splint on her leg was much firmer and sturdier than the makeshift one she had made. Whomever had brought her here took care with her wounds. A slight movement caused her to lurch back and cry out. A tall broad shoulder man in what appeared to be furs sat in the corner.

The body language emulated a defensive stand. She couldn’t see his features, but it was just a sense he was uncomfortable with her being here. Yet still he took the time to attend to her wounds. There was a complexity there that would take a great effort and patience. But she didn’t plan on being here long enough for that. She needed to heal, and make a plan. She could go back to her homeland, but her village was gone. Perhaps she could try to find work somewhere, and save enough until she could make her way back home to a different village.

Shyla let out a groan as her head, feet, leg, and ribs throbbed in unbearable pain. With the pain came the realization of the past few months. The terrifying attack upon her village, the blood and savagery. Woman to old be useful raped in the street. Those that fought back whipped till they could no longer stand. The fire that surrounded them screams and anguishes. Their village had been a peaceful one, the men fished and the women cooked. Tears that had been buried during her ordeal now flowed quietly down her cheeks. This would be the last time she allowed herself to cry. Slowly she wiped them from her cheeks. Hopefully he had not seen. It would make her appear weak.

She coughed a little before speaking. “Water Please”

What she really wanted was spirits of some sort to dull the pain. But she did not wish to make requests upon him. Until she knew his manner, she would limit her burden to him as much as possible. It seemed like the safest way to do things. In the past few months she had a rude awakening to the brutality of men. She had witnessed the violence, and lewdest of the inner workings of the beastly male. Angering the one that saved her from the elements was not on her agenda. If she wanted to survive she would need to curve her tongue and temper.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

The first sound drew no reaction from him, dismissed as a figment of imagination as he stared into the fire. The gentle crackle and pop was all that filled his ears, all that ever filled his ears during the night, why else would that change on this night? The second broke his silent reverie, caused him to shake himself from his vigil, turn his head towards the source. For a long moment, dark eyes peered at the bundle of furs and flesh that was his... rescue? His visitor?

His guest. Yes, his guest.

He watched her for long moments, examined her with the curiosity of someone who wasn't quite sure what exactly to do with another human around. He could see her, the little twitches of pain, the subtle signs of suspicion that hung about her like a cloak. Animals were much the same, and years of hunting them had left him experience with picking up the signs. Humans, it turned out, were not so different from a skittish deer. She was wary, uncertain, defensive. If she were not injured, he suspected she would have run, through the door and into the night beyond, to be lost into the realm beyond. He watched her mouth form words, familiar ones that called memories that echoed from long ago. Moments passed as he stared at her, uncomprehending, before the sounds held meaning, understanding.

"Water. Please."

An unfamiliar language to the region, certainly not the local tongue, yet still one he knew. He stood then, found one of the water skins he kept beside the firepit and moved across the room. It was only a few strides before he was standing over her, considering her once more. She was injured and weak, but she seemed capable enough. Good, he wouldn't have to hold the skin to her lips, something he was sure the both of them would appreciate. Instead he dropped the skin upon the fur bed she lay on, within easy reach for her, before he stepped back once more. He returned to his seat by the fire, tending to the almost ready stew, though angled now so that he could keep an eye on her, watch for signs of movement or distress in the woman. Ensure she could properly drink, or if she'd need his help after all.

 

[Perplexia]

She pulled back her arms as this mountainous man drew near with a water flask and tossed it upon the bed within her reach. Shyla winced reaching to grab a hold of it. Trying to sit up a bit she cried out dropping the flask and grasping her ribs. Her stubbornness kicked in as she grit her teeth through the pain and managed to scootch up enough to drink the water without choking on it. Grabbing the flask she unscrewed the top and took a small sip, then another, then a longer one. The water was refreshing. Screwing the top back on, she sat it down on the floor next to her bed.

Slowly she moved herself back flat. “Thank you” she managed to whimper out whilst taking deep breaths to try to regulate the pain that was raging through her bones. Then she was out again. It wasn’t long before the smell of the stew caused her stomach to wake her. “That smells good” she said toward the direction he sat. “Look mister, i appreciate you bandaging me up and bringing me under your roof. I have no intention of being a burden to you. I’ll be gone as soon as I'm able to walk, I'll be happy to work off my stay cleaning and cooking and such when I'm a bit healed.”

Shyla wasn’t sure that he would respond. Invading his space had to be uncomfortable for him. One lived secluded because they wished out of desire or necessity. Darkening his doorstep wasn’t what she wished, especially not after the kindness he’d shown her by taking her in and tending to her wounds. So what she had said to him was the truth, she would be as invisible as she could be until she could go. What she didn’t count on was the fever that was beginning to set in.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

He watches her struggle with the water skin, almost stood once more to help, but she managed well enough on her own. Her tired whimper of thanks was the last she said before slipping once more into sleep, though she wasn't lost to the world for long. Soon enough, as the stew finished cooking, she stirred again, her words cutting through the still air with a firmness that suggested that at least some of her strength was beginning to return. She continued to speak as he took up the lone bowl and spoon he possessed, enough to see to his own needs more often than not but feeling sadly deficient with even one other about the place. Still, he paid it little more than a passing thought, ladling a generous helping before standing up and striding back across the room to the woman, pressing both bowl and spoon into her hands.

Then he returned once more to his seat, contemplating her offer of work. She had already been a burden, whether she realized it or not. Making enough food for two was a drain upon his winter stores, a drain that would need to be made up for quickly, before the harshest months of winter prevented anything but the most basic of tasks. His sheep could be used for meat, obviously, but that would take away from the wool they provided for trade. A delicate balance in all things, disrupted by one woman too injured to fend for herself and his own sense of righteousness. But he couldn't have lived with himself if he'd left her to die, and if she was willing then she would work, though not for months yet.

"Eat." His voice was raw, unused to speaking in anything but quiet mutterings to himself or brief dealings with traders. "Rest... More than that can be talked of later."

His tone was not unkind, but lacked the warmth or affectations of someone soothing a wounded patient. It stated fact and little more, the man setting to work crafting makeshift arrows of wood and feather. They were no rival to a proper fletcher, but they served well enough for the small game and deer that roamed the mountain forests, and anything larger was best avoided, or dealt with using the few proper arrows and spear that accompanied him on hunts. All the while his eyes flicked to the woman, watched her eat, made sure her strength truly was returning. She would be gone soon, hopefully, well enough that she might make the trek down the mountain with a bit of direction, find her way to the village where she'd make her own way. Then he'd be on his own again, the world all the better for his careful seclusion and self-imposed exile.

A shame it was that fate had other plans.

---------------------------

It was nearing a month before the woman's health began to improve again. The fever had struck quickly, sending her tumbling into delirium, sweating and nightmares. He was no herbalist, no medicine man, no witch of the woods. But he knew the simple ways to fight sickness, knew which herbs could fight fever, which could soothe the girl's aches and pains. Water and food had to be hand fed, and what hunting could be done was limited, lest she slip away without someone attending to her. Truthfully, she drained little in the way of his current stores. It was time, however, that he was losing most, time that could have been spent gathering meat and furs, making the necessary preparations for the winter months. Frustration came with the loss, but his conscious would not allow him to simply abandon her now. He soothed his own anger by remembering her words. She had promised to work when she was well, and he would ensure she did.

The most dangerous time came when his monthly sojourn came. To leave her on her own for what could be three whole nights was a risky proposition, made all the worse that she required constant tending. Food, drink, basic cleaning, all were tasks that she could not perform herself, lost as she was to sickness. But he saw to it all the same, thankful at least that he could ignore feminine charm easily thanks to her sickness and injuries. It was a miracle to him that when he returned two days after leaving, she was still alive, weak but not lost. Another miracle that upon checking her, he found that her fever had finally broken. It would seem God was not calling her to his side quite yet.

Her recovery progressed swiftly after that, her injuries fading and sickness lessening with each day, though she continued to sleep restlessly and her waking moments seemed to remain delirious. But her strength grew again, and he was certain now, it wouldn't be long before she woke fully again, healthy and hopefully still willing to get herself to work helping him catch up on the time she'd drained away. He found himself wiling away the hours of the days tending to her thinking up the tasks her weakened body could perform as she regained her strength. Perhaps tending to the sheep and fields would be a good way to get her up and moving, whilst he set himself to hunting and gathering the mountains bounty.

 

[Perplexia]

Her sleep was filled with replays of the Vikings attack on her village. From time to time she'd wake and he ensure during those times if he was there he'd ensure she drank and ate before she passed out again. He wasn't a man of words, and that was fine by her. Once the fever had broken she began to get her strength back. It took a while between her injuries and the sickness before she could sit up. Even then it was a little here and there before she had to lay back down. To his credit, he didn't try to rush her. But it was not a secret he was as ready for her to go, as she was to be on her way.

Each morning after he set out she began to work on walking. Doing little things like sweeping the cabin were exhausting, but it was a start. It took time for her to be able to walk without the use of the walls, stool, and hearth. But each day was progress, and each day as she grew stronger she pushed a little more. Taking care of farm animals wasn't something that was new to her. When she was able she began to rise before him and make her way outside to gather the eggs, muck the pens and feed the animals he kept.

The stronger she got the quicker she was able to accomplish these chores and began to cook eggs in various forms for breakfast. She used the milk from the goats to make butter and cheese. On occasion they would have bread. She never over did things, and was good at rationing. When he came home from his hunting and gathering dinner was prepared. It was never anything magnanimous, but always enough for the both of them. In truth she ate little, sometimes less then what she could as to not be an imposition.

Shyla was a quick learner, and when he would skin, and cure his furs, she watched him intently. She learned how to salt them to remove the moisture, how it was important that they were airdried. As he worked on a dear, she picked up rabbit. If she had a question she would ask him, it took her a bit longer than it did him. Simply because it was her first, but she was rather proud of the task once it was completed. When it came to the killing, with the exception of a chicken she left that to him. What she did do was make a collection of feathers over the amount of chickens they had eaten, washed and sundried them, and sewed him a pillow.

It was getting colder, and she knew that it wouldn't be till spring or the beginning of summer before she'd be able to be on her way. "What is your name?" she asked him one afternoon while they skinned and salted furs. "Is there a lake near that you could take me to so i could have a proper bath?" They used water that he brought to the house to wash with but it was not the same as taking a nice dip in fresh water. "Perhaps we can get some fish as well. The village I am from we did a lot of fishing. It keeps well for the winter as well."

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

The months slipping by had been... strange for him. She was a constant presence now, at first merely working around the house, cleaning what little needed to be cleaned. Cooking meals that were more than his simple fare was already a blessing, if something he warned himself not to get used to. As her strength grew, so did the tasks she subtly took over. Farm work agreed with her, it was clear after only a few days she was used to the labors of caring for the animals. A farm girl then? He dismissed the question before he could truly ponder it, he didn't want to know who she was before finding her way here. Didn't want to gain any sort of attachment to her presence.

With the woman taking over the farm work, usually something he'd have to handle on his own, he could head out far earlier in the day. It meant he had far more time to check traps and lay new ones, to take his time hunting larger game. While he was not always successful, more time also meant ranging farther from home, giving yet more room for him to hunt. He stayed far from the Beast's stomping ground, but even with that restriction he found plenty to bring back, to dress and prepare for the winter stores, not to mention the furs and leathers to be sold come the next year. It came as a surprise when the woman found her way to him, watching as he set to the task of preparing meat and skins. Soon enough she was following along, less skillfully perhaps, but with the determination of someone eager to learn.

It was one afternoon, as winter's approach came on fast, that the monotony of routine was broken. They hadn't spoken much, if at all, working more on understanding than communication. But today it seemed she'd decided differently. Her words cut through the air like a knife, catching him off guard. He paused in his task for a moment, eyeing the piece of leather he was working on but not truly seeing it as he slowly thought over his answer. Eventually he replied, his hands returning to their work as he spoke.

"Alexi." It was not his name, but it was what he was called, down in the village, and it would do. The old him was long dead, driven from this world by the Beast. "There's a small lake nearby. Should do. Not much for fish, but maybe you'll catch something."

He didn't mention it bordered the Beast's hunting grounds, so that he could clean up after it came, for the same reason he did not mention the Beast at all to her. She did not need to know what existed inside of him, nor did she need to know why he disappeared each month, leaving her to her own devices. Another reminder that it would be best if she moved on quickly, something looking more and more likely to have to wait till winter's passing. The prospect did not please him, for a many reasons, but it was looking more and more like she wouldn't be strong enough to leave on her own, not before the first snowfalls made getting down the mountain even more treacherous.

Soon enough the days task were done, and with light still available it would be as good a time as any to take her to the lake. The trek was a short one, kept in silence for he'd little more to say. But when the reached their destination, the pristine lake clear for the mountain water that ran through it, he found a place to settle, close enough that he could intervene if necessary whilst still providing her some semblance of privacy.

"Take your time. We've nothing else that needs doing today."

 

[Perplexia]

This solitary lifestyle that he lived seemed to fit them. Though she was starting to feel restless. The tasks and work they did made the days seem to pass by with ease. Some things were repetitive, but there was always a variety of things they could do to keep it from becoming monotonous.

“Thank You Alex” she said as he told her to take her time. Her thanks was meant for taking her to the lake, for the privacy he was giving her, and for the time allotment to enjoy one of those luxuries she’d long been craving.

Now that she knew the way here, she could visit more often. Walking down to the lakes edge she began to shed her rags. The air was cool and crisp on her flesh and it felt wonderful. As she submerged herself into the water she let out a deep sigh of contentment.

“You should come in and enjoy it” she called to him as she threaded water. The thought that she was naked hadn’t crossed her mind. The impropriety of it would have been for polite society. If the man had wished her harm, or to push himself upon her he would have already.

“You should let me give you a proper shave and haircut by the way, you’re starting to resemble a shaggy bear.” she let out a light laugh wondering the expression on his face might be since she couldn’t see it. “In the village I'm from, it was part of the training to become a wife, learning how to shave a man. Though since that's not going to happen now, you could take advantage of my skills while I'm here.”

It wasn’t as if she wanted to become attached to the man. They both knew she’d be on her way soon. But polite conversation would help her feel less like a burden. He wasn’t rude or mean. It was just apparent that she was trespassing in his world, the world that he preferred to be alone in.

Shyla hadn’t thought about staying with him. But she was getting use to Mountain life. Perhaps she would build a cabin somewhere and live like a recluse herself. She knew how to skin and how to cure meat now. She knew how to shave the sheep of their wool. Making bread and butter was already embedded in her skill set. It was a thought to entertain herself.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

Her thanks was waved away with the ease of someone both unused to receiving it, and uninterested in the words regardless. He'd done nothing of value that she had not already thanked him for. Instead, after finding his place his eyes strayed to the woman in question, watched her strip herself of the rags she called clothes. A momentary thought slipped into his mind, the idle note that he'd need to use some of the leather and furs to craft her something more appropriate to wear. That she'd lasted months in rags, without complaint at all, spoke either to her character or her desire to not be a nuisance. Either way, it wouldn't be possible for her to do anything during winter without proper clothing.

Another part of him, a more primal thing within, helpfully reminded him that she was a woman, the first woman he'd seen naked in years.

He pushed the thought away, even as she slipped into the water, her form vanishing from his sight. Her words rose into the air, an invitation to join her that for a moment he ignored entirely, before a pause caused him to reconsider. It had been awhile since he properly bathed, awhile longer still since he'd bathed without first having to deal with the Beast. Perhaps a moments enjoyment, without having to concern himself with recovery from his monthly ordeal, wouldn't be a problem. So it was that his answer was to rise to his feet, working the straps on his clothing slowly and carefully, somehow slightly embarrassed at disrobing within clear view of someone else. He felt almost... vulnerable...

The thought was discarded as he slipped into the water himself, the sudden chill against his skin enough to drag him from his thoughts. Just in time for him to catch her next words as well, the offer of a shave, and her apt description of him, having him brush a hand against his beard. Bear was it? Wolf more like, not that she'd know to make the comparison. Ever since the Beast, his hair had always grown abnormally fast, though he'd admit that his preferred method of keeping it in check was just hacking at it with a knife when it got long enough. But it was an offer of services, one that by his reckoning demanded an answer of some sort.

"Perhaps."

Even he knew that was about as noncommittal as he could get, but then he honestly did not know if he even had the tools she'd need to perform the task. Besides, there was something that raised his hackles as the idea of someone coming at his face with enough, something that stirred the Beast within just enough to make him uncomfortable. But she'd plenty of time since arriving to harm or steal, and she seemed content to simply exist near him. Regardless, he let her chatter on, the break from the silence a bit of a welcome relief, and by his limited reckoning it seemed she preferred speaking to the silence as she moved through the water. He simply listened quietly, having waded only deep enough that he was covered up to his chest, once more keeping an eye on her whilst he simply enjoyed the feel of the water against his skin.

 

[Perplexia]

When she had offered the invitation to join her, Shyla hadn’t anticipated he’d accept. She had figured at the most she would get a growl or a grunt. Instead a noise caused her to turn toward the shore and watch as the man shed his last item of clothing. My god he was breathtaking. A bit unkempt for sure, but nevertheless a mountain of a man with spectacular muscles and stature walked into the water.

Quickly she ducked underwater to keep from looking like a starved whelp that was bewildered by his pure magnificence. When she popped back up and heard his “Perhaps” to her offer of shaving him, it was monumental, she made a mental note to make some lye soap in the morning. Swimming out a bit further she tried to clear her head. Was she developing a crush on her savior? Well that certainly wouldn’t do. It was a recipe for disaster, for he hadn’t even asked for her name or story. Clearly the man was simply biding time for her to leave.

Feeling something slide over her foot she instinctively dove down into the depth with a quickness and came back up moments later holding a writhing fish above her head. She worked her way to the shore to toss it upon the bank without care of her naked flesh glimmering for anyone to see. “Dinner” she cried out triumphantly as she headed back into the water toward him.

A moment of playfulness struck her as she splashed his bare chest with the cool water giggling and diving under to swim away from him. She popped back up and floated backwards watching to see if he’d react. Her mother used to tease her about being a half mermaid for her love of the water. It was a pleasant somber memory that crossed her features. “Is there a waterfall around here?” she questioned.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

Her disappearing underwater caused his attention to snap to where she'd been, concern and wariness in equal measure ensuring he watched until she surfaced. When she did appear again he settled once more, returning to his more placid and semi-relaxed posture. He continued his relatively silent vigil as the young woman swam about, clearly more eager and willing to indulge in the activity. She dove away again, this time without quite so visceral a reaction from him, coming up once more with a wriggling fish in her hands. The flicker of a smile threatened to emerge, amusement that she displayed such enthusiasm for the simple act of catching a fish, and with her bare hands no less.

But his sense of relaxation brought other complications, one's he hadn't anticipated. In this case, as the young woman emerged onto the bank of the river, water running down her body in rivulets that caught the eye under the afternoon sun. Where before he'd taken little note of her form, interested only in her injuries and uncaring of her feminine features, now his attention was caught, if only for a moment. The sudden surprise of even taking a moments time to stare was enough to have him clamping down on his self-control again, the shock of fear and uncertainty having him examining the Beast. But there was nothing, as was often the case outside the usual times, a deep breath steadying his nerves.

By the time she'd returned to the water, glided through it with the ease of long practice, he'd regained his control of himself. She was playful, splashing water at him, slipping here and there without a care in the world. There was something there, the flash of some emotion across her face that he couldn't place, before her next question slipped from her lips, one he considered only briefly.

"Not that I'm aware of." There might be, admittedly, as he hadn't bothered to explore the entirety of the mountain, there had never been reason to. He watched her as she drifted on the water's surface, a question sticking in his throat as it against the compulsion to keep her at arm's length. But he'd need to live with her through winter, and it had been long enough that perhaps she'd be willing to talk of it. He could guess of course, there were few things that would bring someone who looked like her so far, and certainly she couldn't be local, given the language. But all the same his mouth formed the words, despite his reluctance to pry, if only to have something to say. "What happened, to bring you so far from home?"

 

[Perplexia]

It hit her with a whoosh. The weariness, she had quite over done it with her excitement of having a bath and enjoying the serenity of the lake. Shyla had heard his question and was prepared to answer, when she grew faint from the sun. "Alex" she managed to get out with a few steps toward him. She fell, and somehow managed to get back to her feet and stagger toward him. "Too much sun and exercise I think" her words explained as she took ahold of his arm to steady herself.

This was the first time she had physically touched him, and it was almost like she had been hit with an electricity through her body. Her mouth opened slightly as her eyes stared into his. Then reality rushed back and she let go.. "sorry" she mumbled, "just had to get my breath back." Well that wasn't the truth, she was even more breathless and discombobulated then she had been when the weariness hit her.

Making her way to the beach she sat upon the ground trying to regain her strength. "Vikings invaded my village in Ireland, they took me and many of my people as slaves to be sold or traded. They made a few other stops before reaching here. I escaped while most of them slept. In retrospect, trying to climb up a mountain in the dark wasn't ideal. But it was either that or be sold to someone who would probably...well I'm sure you can imagine." The truth was, if she was going to die, she would rather do it free than by being beaten or worse at some others hands.

That was all the energy she had for words at the moment. Pulling up her knees to her chest she put her elbows upon them and rested her face in her hands. She had been good at pacing herself to not end up in this state until today. But the cool water was well worth it. It crossed her mind that he may object to her going out to the lake alone in the future. There was bears and mountain lions all around, and it was apparent she couldn't be trusted to pace herself around water. Wobbling she took her rags to the edge of the water and with a few pebbles did a quick washing of them before placing them back on. The wet scraps clung to her form as she sat back down.

"I can walk, just need a few minutes for my head to stop swimming" she muttered up to his towering mountain form. My god he was magnificent she thought. A soft smile crossed her lips, whether it was to reassure him she'd be okay, or whether it was there because he was a vision she just wasn't sure.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

He was moving even before she stumbled, watched as she seemed to catch herself for a moment before meeting him partway, her hand grasping his arm to steady herself. They were close now, closer than they should have been, closer than was advisable, and there was a horrible lack of... something... anything to be a barrier between their bodies. It was enough to have him taking notice, to have the thing that slept inside start to stir. Thankfully, he'd long practice in telling the Beast to go away, and the young woman was pushing away to scramble back onto the lakeshore, taking her touch with it. But what damage had been done was already present, and he felt his eyes tug to her form as she emerged fully from the water, watched the water make trails down her skin, droplets that guided eyes along feminine curves.

Her voice came to him again, though, and it's seriousness, and the tale she told, was enough to sober his attention long before she'd a chance to notice his sudden attentions. He moved himself, replaced his clothing as she told the tale, detailed what had brought her so very far from home. Ireland... he'd only heard some ill understood myths and fanciful legends of the place. But then, she was a long way from home. His gaze fixed her, her smile seemingly a gentle reassurance that she was fine, despite the chill in the air and the water clinging to her skin and clothing. A twitch of annoyance, more at his own thoughtlessness than anything she had done, before he knelt and collected her from the ground, hoisting her up into his arms. Despite her improving health, it was clear she still lacked, her weight hardly enough to even give him pause.

"Can you sew?" The question fell from his lips, a distraction from the previously heavy topic and no doubt bitter memories he'd conjured forth, even as he began the journey back to the cabin. If she could, they'd plenty of wool and hides to get her attired more acceptably for the winter, at least enough to last till spring, and she could acquire more proper clothing from the village before her departure for greener pastures. It would eat a little into his stores, but her help was more than making up for it, at least in the moment, and he doubted it would be too much.

He just had to ignore the way the rags she was currently wearing stuck to her skin, and the slight disappointment at her form being hidden within thick furs.

 

[Perplexia]

Grabbing the fish as he swooped down to pick her up, holding her body tight against his as he carried her back toward the cabin. There was that electricity again, and there was nothing that she could do to avoid it, the heat from his body only added to the desire her flesh was screaming for. All of this new emotion and feelings were confusing, causing her head to ache. Shyla laid her head against his clothed shoulder.

“Really Alex, I can walk” she half protested not bothering to lift her head. “And yes I can sew. I’ve been working on something for you actually, for winter.” They made it back to the cabin quicker than it took them to get down there. In a way it was disappointing, it meant he would put her down. The cabin was cool even with the fireplace going. It made her wonder how they were to stay warm in winter.

As he sat her on the bed she thanked him and reached under to pull out a bundle wrapped in burlap. Unwrapping it she pulled out a half completed kaleidoscope coat. “I used the leftover scraps to make it. I’ll be lining it with wool then lining it again with fur scraps. Do you like it?” she fingered her rags. “I guess I should probably make myself something too.”

She had dropped the fish on the porch on their way in. “Are you going to let me cook dinner, or is my little lightheadedness going to restrict me to bed for the evening Doctor fuzzy bear?” Shyla smirked, teasing him. “Really i think i can manage to skin and cook the fish.” Then she got dizzy and laid down. “Okay, maybe in a few minutes I'll be able to.” Her eyes wandered over the clothes he wore now as her mind remembered the detailed sculpture of his broad shoulders and pulsating pectorals. The man should be sculpted and she would love to mold him out of clay herself.

A groan escaped her lips as she forced herself to look away. This weird carnal desire to touch him once again wasn’t helping her lightheadedness. Today was a good day she thought, at least he spoke to her. She’d hoped that he’d let her go to the lake on her own. But after todays over exertion, she’d be lucky if he let her go again before winter set in. There was something apparent today that she hadn’t picked up on earlier, he seemed to be protective over her well being.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

A small smile as she protested, but otherwise he chose to ignore her words. She was, after all, still recovering from her ordeal, despite her seeming energy. Still prone to sudden bouts of lethargy and dizziness. It was hardly any trouble at all to carry her weight, and not worth commenting on beyond that. Still, the revelation that she could sew meant that she'd be able to fashion clothing more appropriate to the coming weather, something he could admit should have been handled months ago. To leave her dressed in rags... but he'd been unconcerned, and she'd kept her thoughts on the matter to herself, and it had slipped attention until the water upon her skin left the rags plastered against her skin and making it clear such would be insufficient for the biting chill soon to arrive.

He smiled once he'd placed her upon the bed and she presented her unfinished work. Where she'd found the time to do so, in between everything else, and not to mention hiding it away without his notice, was something of a mystery, though one that did not require solving. As much as he appreciated the thought of her gift, it wouldn't do for him to have saved her, only for her to succumb to the cold for lack of proper clothing.

"Focus on your own clothing. There'll be plenty of time to work on other things during winter."

He said no more on the subject, content that his thoughts on the matter had been conveyed. Similarly, he refrained from speaking about the fish, instead setting himself to the task of descaling and preparing the fish for the fire. His actions would speak loudly enough. His focus on the task wasn't so great that he didn't notice movement out of the corner of his eye, head shifting to see her staring at him for perhaps a moment too long before she pulled her gaze away. A slight frown, more of thought than of discontent, then the fish demanded his attention. It wasn't long before the fish was cooked through and ready to eat, and he slipped it from the fires and presented her catch to her.

"Eat. You're far too thin still, and need the energy."

He'd see to his own meal only after he was certain she'd taken to eating, seating himself once more at the hearth so that he could tend to the preparing of another stew. It would serve his own appetite well enough, and it provided a convenient way for him to continue ignoring her water-slicked skin and clinging cloth.

 

[Perplexia]

"Focus on your own clothing. There'll be plenty of time to work on other things during winter."

She was rather proud of having kept it a secret from him, rather proud of the hours she’d spent on it as a thank you for all he had done for her. Though he may have appreciated it, his words failed to express it, leaving her feeling rather hurt and alone.

For months it had seemed anytime there was progress in getting to be civilized rather than strangers cohabitating, it was suddenly back to square one. Today she had finally felt as if they were making progress. Although he still hadn’t asked her name, at least he asked her story.

Maintaining a conversation however was a moot point. As he ignored her question about letting her do the fish and simply took it upon himself. Though it did seem he noticed her scowl, but again no reaction. When he brought her the fish and said “Eat. You're far too thin still, and need the energy." she looked at him blankly.

“You eat it.” she replied with a rather irritated tone and got up walking out of the cabin door. She had no idea where she was going but she simply kept walking. It wasn’t until the sun started to set that it came to her to find shelter. With her eyes peeled and a little luck she found a deep enough indention in the mountain with a good overhang that would protect her for the night.

Shyla gathered wood to build a fire all the while mumbling under her breath in frustration. She was overly grateful that he had rescued her, sheltered and fed her, and taught her many skills of survival. In return she had worked twice as hard as she ever had to pay him back with learning, and taking tasks upon herself without being asked. She had endured the silence, the grunts, and the one word all with hope that at some point they could at least part saying they were friends. But he wanted little to do with her, and never made her feel anything but an inconvenience.

For months she had been strong, brave, and courageous. Not once had she taken the time to grieve those she’d lost, or the trama she’d endured. Building the fire and get it lit she collapsed next to it. Everything came to a head and the tears started to flow with a virtuosity as she sobbed. Shyla cried for the loss of her parents, for watching her friends she’d known her entire life be murdered in front of her eyes. She cried for the violence and being taken hostage with little food and gruff manners. She cried for being forced to watch as some were raped in front of her before they were killed, and she cried because she’d never felt more alone in her life.

She had tried to be the strong woman her mother raised. But she was so tired, scared, and had an uncertain future which terrified her despite the brave face she’d mustard. As the tears slowly dried, she lay down upon the coves floor next to the fire. Despite how frustrated she was with Alex, she still found her mind wandering back to the way she felt pressed against him in the water, and then again in his arms as he carried her. Why did she let his dismissiveness bother her so much?

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

It was hours before he gone to find her. Time enough to berate himself over his stupidity, and time enough to hopefully give the woman time on her own. She had made something to thank him, but he has perhaps been overly practical in his response. He knew no other way, not anymore, and to live otherwise was a difficult thing to ask of him. All the less for the reason he lived so far into the mountains on his own. Still, all those thoughts were pushed aside against the feelings of shame, that she'd react so aggressively against his own seeming indifference.

He found her rather easily, a fire cast light into the night easily, drawing attention to her location. So far up the moment, and so long since her pursuers had likely passed on, it was likely safe enough for her to do so. But a fire on its own would do little to fight the growing chill, and despite his difficulty with people, he wasn't going to leave her to her death. The journey was a long one, longer than he'd have liked, but traveling the mountain paths at night was a difficult thing, particularly when one wanted, needed, to avoid injury, lest death swiftly follow. He found her eventually, her fire burning down slowly, the young woman curled against the night air. He couldn't tell if she was awake, if she noted his approach at all, if she even cared. He resolved then to not moving her, not yet, instead slipped his fur cloak from his shoulders and draping it over her still frame.

A few minutes spent tending the fire, fresh sticks and branches to fuel it back to life, then he was seated, far enough the she could keep her distance from him if she wished. Silence followed, the crackle and snap, the sounds of fire and the night filling the air. Then his voice emerged, his quiet rumble scratchy still from lack of use but recovering slowly at the quiet words and directions from the woman's presence in his life.

"I am sorry... for whatever insult I have caused... I am alone, have been alone, for a long time. Longer than I care to recall. Tis a necessary thing." A pause, he could tell her why, but then she would fear him, would be like so many others before he made this mountain his home. No, she'd little need for the knowledge of the Beast. "I am... not good at expressing thanks, if I was ever any good at it. But your presence is... not unwelcome, your help appreciated, and your gift... I am thankful, for your gift. I just worry myself more over you than myself..."

A grimace. He wasn't even sure she was awake. Perhaps that made it easier, it was as if he was speaking to the empty air, to the night sky, rather than to another human, who might speak back... He wondered what that said of him, that he found it easier when it wasn't another person who could hear his words.

 

[Perplexia]

She had watched him approach, and closed her eyes. Shyla was less angry now, and more emotionally exhausted. The cloak he laid upon her frame was most welcome. A tenderness that he’d shown on occasion that resonated with her. The only sound was his stirring of the fire and the crackling of the fire as it ate with a ravenous hunger at the new branches being added. When he took a seat it was almost a resonating thump that she had heard so often before. A welcome sound.

When his words came, she listened. His remorse came with what she assumed was great difficulty for him. He wasn’t used to having to deal with people, much less have his space occupied. “Please” she said, holding the cloak up behind her, inviting him to lay next to her so they could share in each other's warmth as well as that of the fire. “I’m still a bit chilled, and you need to be warm as well.” When he reluctantly joined her she wiggled her body closer to his.

“Why?” she said softly after a few moments of silence. “Why do you have to be alone? Why do you worry more about me than you?. You say my presence is welcome, yet you make me feel like I am little more than an inconvenience. Can you even begin to imagine how alone I feel? I’ve been torn from my homeland, everyone i knew is either dead or being or has been sold. I have bent over backward trying to repay your kindness for taking me into your home, for that i receive grunts if anything at all. You never even bothered to ask my name, its Shyla”

She had to stop talking to catch her breath. The pure euphoria of having his body pressed next to hers was causing her heart to race causing her to unconsciously wiggle a little against him. Why was it so increasingly difficult to focus when he was near? Shyla laid her head back against his chest. “I can make a makeshift door to keep the snow out, I'll make do on my own till spring and be on my way.” Even as she said it she knew it wasn’t true. If she managed to make a door, it would help with the cold only minutely. Chances are when winter came she’d die of starvation, if she didn’t freeze to death first.

Without Alex she wasn’t going to survive, that was the simple truth of it. “In the spring, if you’d be willing to help me, I would like to build a place of my own. I’d be far enough away so you wouldn’t have to see me. But the chance of survival for me in the village or elsewhere is just the same. Up here it will be less likely that i’ll be captured again, or forced into slavery.”

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

He had considered refusing, but even his cloak it seemed would do little to fight the chill, and some part of himself mocked his lack of foresight, the rags that even now did little to fight the mountain's chill. So he had gone and lain beside her, had felt her press herself close as if to seek the warmth that he held. Yet even as he did so he could feel the his muscles tense in some measure of anguish. This was not the cold necessity of transporting a weakened woman, this was the seeking of comfort, something he knew little of beyond the basest necessity and distant, half-forgotten memories. It was hardly a moment before she spoke, her back to him, feeling and questions and a name.

Shyla.

It was, perhaps, more a blow to his gut that anything else, and yet all the same it was almost a relief. She was no longer girl, or woman, or the visitor. She was named, and that in itself was a cause for panic and concern. She was something more than a passing traveler or a woman in distress, though what she was he could not put a name upon truly. His thoughts were only sent into yet more disarray at her movements, the subtle shifting of her body as she pressed herself closer. A hand twitched, some unconscious thought sending dizzying images spiraling, but her questions, and the answers they brought forth, were enough at least in this moment to keep any urges well to himself. Some questions, though, he could answer, and so he did, his voice a low rumble against her back.

"You were weakened, are weakened, from your ordeal. Any right thinking man would look after you as far as means allowed, until you were healthy and whole once more. Though it seems I am a failure as a host..." Another grimace of distaste, at his own inability to do something as simple as care for another. "But I have not been encouraged to interact with anyone as often as I have you for years. You will have to... forgive me my lack of skill when it comes to interacting with others... But that's my own problem. Regardless of what comes, you'll have a place in my home, as long as you wish it so."

A promise he hadn't intended to give, to her or anyone else. But the words came before his doubts and hesitations could get in the way. Already, as her health improved, he'd begun to think over how he would justify disappearing for three days a month... even during winter. When she was weaker, prone to sleeping far longer and unaware of the difficulties of living in the mountains it had been far easier. Perhaps a long hunting trip, farther away. But considerations for another time, and for all the world somewhere other than in an overhang, beside a dying fire and a far too distracting woman pressing herself insistently against him.

"... But if you wish to live in the mountains, I'll teach you what I know... as much as can be taught, anyhow. Where to go. Where not to go. There's a place nearby... a Beast lives there, or so the locals claim. No one goes into it's territory, lest they draw its ire."

 

[Perplexia]

Shyla listened quietly as Alex spoke. His rough rasp resonated on a deeper level than even she knew. She wanted to ask why again, why had he been alone for so long? Why was interacting with someone such a forlorn experience? Instead, she decided not to pressure him. Perhaps with more time he would open up a bit more. But tonight was a start.

She hadn’t expected him to follow her. But she was, even on a night such as tonight she would have nearly froze without his cloak and body heat. “You aren't such a failure as a host.” Shyla said in a soft gentle tone. “You came after me, and are helping to keep me warm on my foolish attempt to spend the night in an overhang. You also fed me when I was hungry, tended my wounds, and carried me from the lake when I over extended myself. You’ve taught me several survival skills that were forgein to me. But would allow me to make a fair go of it, and now you’ve offered me a place to lay my head for as long as I like.”

Shyla smiled slightly at the idea of staying with him. “You have treated me fair, and courteously. You have behaved as a gentleman, there are many who would not have. The past months prior to coming here I was made aware of the barbarism of man. You saved my life Alex, and for that I will be eternally grateful.” she reached back and patted his fur covered leg in a gesture of reassurance. “A man is privy to his reasons” she said softly. “Though I do hope this means you will try to use more words in the future and less grunts.” she let out a light giggle teasing him.

“I appreciate your offer of my staying as long as I wish. But I don’t wish to dance upon your privacy. If you decide that you want me to stay, then all you have to do is ask. I don’t expect that’s a conclusion you’ll come to easily. But it is yours to make.” With that she snuggled closer, laying her head upon her arm and staring at the fire. Her thoughts wandered back to their time at the lake earlier. The feel of his body against hers causing a wash of electric tingles to flood through her.

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

"I will... try to remember to speak more often..."

The warmth, from her and the fire, was enough to leave him drowsy. It was a long time since he'd slept beside anyone else, and despite the circumstances of it he was worn from the days activities. Still, the relative danger of their surroundings kept him awake, though not quite as alert as he could be. An arm slipped around Shyla, and unconscious desire to keep her warmth close, his hand falling across her stomach. He would have to think on her... offer? She was leaving the decision to him, which while it made sense made nothing easy.

It didn't help matters that as he relaxed, and his control of himself relaxed with him, his attention found itself caught by the young woman pressed into him. She was soft and yielding, seemingly content to press herself close to him without concern for what he could do to her with relative ease. Was that a vote of confidence, faith in his good nature? Or was she simply so oblivious to such matters that they didn't concern her at all? It left him confused and uncertain, though a deep breath help center him enough to rein in any further thoughts on the matter. Even if he wanted to push himself on her, he had little interest in a woman so thin she seemed as if she'd snap. She'd made plenty of progress, gained weight and muscle enough to move about the small homestead he kept, but if even a simple trip to the lake wore her out entirely, she wasn't ready.

She still needed more time. He already knew she'd be with him over the winter months, when it would get difficult to explain away his absences as hunting trips. Hopefully she'd take things at face value, though he had the suspicion that she'd be more likely to try finding him than leaving things well enough alone.

 

[Perplexia]

"I will... try to remember to speak more often..." “thank you” she responded softly.

As her eyes threatened to close his arm slipped around her. Her arm instinctively went down holding his hand as it laid upon her stomach. Shyla’s awareness of what could happen between a man and a woman was rather limited. What she did know was that when Alex touched her it was the most incredible feeling.

Woman in her village were kept chaste until they wed. It had been custom that women were simply traded for items the house needed. The richer the family the better. Those that were married or widowed were often caught rutting and causing chaos. Having raised farm animals, she was quite sure she understood the concept of what could happen when people rutted.

Though this was a different life. She enjoyed the way being around him was calming. He behaved with manners, and didn’t treat her as an inconvenience. He would let her pull her fair share, never hit or yelled at her for doing something wrong. It was much safer than anywhere else. So if she could find pleasure in her world that had been turned upside down, she would take it.

Squeezing his hand tighter she closed her eyes and snuggled closer and fell asleep. When she woke up Alex’s arm was still wrapped around her. The sun was threatening to rise, and she just wanted a few more minutes of this moment. Eventually she heard him make the same grunt he makes every morning when he wakes. Shyla laid her head back against his chest and looked up at him. “Today you’re getting shaved.”

 

[WeaverofWorlds]

The gentle rumble of his awakening, the quiet silence that he usually let pervade the morning, was broken as had quickly become custom. Her words brought forth a grumble of discontent, though he made no comment at first. It was a long pause before he found his voice, only belatedly remembering his promise to try to do better.

"If you think it best... who am I to question?"

His beard had never bothered him, it simply was and that was enough. But Shyla seemed rather intent upon it, as if it was one more thing she could do for him. As if she was required to do things for him, lest he drive her from his home. If it brought her comfort, he saw little reason to refuse, though he'd no idea of the tools she'd even need to shave him. His knives were for hunting and skinning, not the delicate work of a shaved face. Still, they'd work to see to, the endless needs of survival on the mountain requiring the use of what daylight they had, growing shorting each passing day.

"Come along, Shyla. Shaving will have to wait till tonight."

The return journey to the cabin was thankfully short, her escape in the night hardly lent itself well to long distances. She even managed the walk almost entirely on her own, though he kept his eyes on her throughout, just in case. When they did arrive, it was time for the mornings tasks. Breakfast was a quick affair, behind as they were already, before caring for animal and produce was the order of the day. As ever, time passed quickly, work witling away the hours swiftly. Soon enough, the evening came, the sun's slow descent into the horizon marking the end of the day. Alexi found himself then seated, eyes furrowed in skepticism, as Shyla stood before him, knife in hand.

 

[Perplexia]

"If you think it best... who am I to question?"
Shyla laughed softly. He was such a grumpy bear she thought. Reluctantly he rose and she followed putting out the fire.
"Come along, Shyla. Shaving will have to wait till tonight."

The way her name sounded from his lips, she hadn't realized how much she had longed for him to say it. The walk home took more of a toll on her than she let on. She took relief in sitting in some of the tasks that needed to be done, such as their quick breakfast and tanning some hides. Still she was feeling weary. In honesty she couldn't wait to crawl into the make shift bed. Yet she still continued onward, he needn't need to know that between the walks and the lake, she'd quite over done it. Between the tasks of the day she managed to make up some lye for his shaving. It wasn't that he looked bad with his scruffy unkept beard, but she was curious to see his face without it. Come winter she would keep it trimmed for him, but tonight he was going to be clean shaven.

After their dinner as the sun went down he sat for his shave. "Don't worry, have a little faith" she goaded him teasingly. Putting the knife down after ensuring it was sharp enough for the job. She placed to fingers in the bowl and began to lather it around his face. Slowly but steadily she began to remove the scruffy unkept beard. Straddling his leg to get closer, her cleavage in his face swipe after swipe. Taking a towel and wiping each area clean to admire her work and ensure she didn't miss any. "okay that side is done" she dipped a towel in hot water and laid it over half his face as she began the other half. "From what i've been told a hot towel feels good after a shave. You'll have to let me know when i'm done. But for now please don't talk i don't want to knick you." Straddling the other leg and perhaps pressing a bit closer she went about the task of shaving the other side of his face. When she was done she took the towel away and dipped it in the hot water again ringing it out and placing it over his entire face.

"you see, nothing to be apprehensive about. I didn't cut u once. Now," she said removing the towel and lifting his hand to his face. "How does it feel?" Shyla was stunned by what a handsome man he was beneath the scruff. His strong features resemble his outward manners. But those eyes revealed to her a tortured soul.

"I've been meaning to talk to you. I think when winter comes it will be warmer for you to share the bed with me."

Shyla took his message seriously about needing warmer clothes. So she sat by candlelight and sewed until she could no longer keep her eyes open. Getting up and putting things away, without thought she kissed him on his forehead and said goodnight. It didn't escape her how good it felt to have her body so close to his as she shaved him, or kissed his forehead. Tonight she knew she'd miss his warm body curled up next to hers. His arm around her holding her close.

The next few days were much of the same. Eat, chores, eat chores, eat, sew and little talk. But it had been better than before, and Alexi was putting forth an effort. He had no idea how much he pleased her.