It was dark under the trees, the air cold and damp on her face.
She slipped through the woods like a ghost, silently picking her way across the dying underbrush.
There had been no brilliant foliage this year, no stunning sea of crimson and gold across the mountainside. Autumn had come early and it seemed as if all the leaves had died at once, fading to brown and leaving the land barren as they fell from the trees.
It was a fitting reflection of the state of things.
Everything ached - her arms, her back, her feet, her head, her stomach, her heart. She stopped beneath one of the bare trees to catch her breath, leaning against the rough bark as the world reeled before her eyes. The gun she cradled was an unfamiliar weight and she set it down beside her, glad to be rid of it if just for a moment.
Her husband had never taught her how to use the thing and she'd had no cause to learn during her childhood. Her spoiled, pampered childhood – she remembered it now as though it belonged to someone else. It had been grand – grand dresses, grand dances, grand dinners, and the grand old home place. Her mother and father had been very grand as well, god rest their souls.
She wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill in the air, all too biting through the thin cotton of her worn dress. It wasn't one she was happy to wear for all it represented, not to mention the fact that the fabric was a summer weight and this most assuredly was not summer, but it was black and therefore helped her blend into the lengthening shadows as the day slipped away.
Any passing Home Guard wouldn't notice her slipping between the trees and that was what mattered. Somehow she knew that being caught out alone by those men would deliver her to fate worse than death.
But she needed food and she needed it desperately. The pangs in her midsection she could abide but today she'd made no milk for her baby. She'd been afraid this day would come but she hadn't expected it to come so soon.
As she stood there, lost in thought, a rustling in the trees behind her nearly stopped her heart. Would it be something to eat or something to fear? She wasn't prepared for either and she knew there was more to fear in these woods than there was to eat.
Dread dragged a cold finger down her spine but she forced her stiff body to turn towards the sound, grappling blindly for her gun on the ground beside her.
What she saw coming through the trees forced the air from her lungs in one great gust. The fearsome creature seemed to take notice of her at the same time she saw it and let out a great bellow that echoed through the empty woods and set her heart to pounding in her ears.
The bear was nearly twice her size and covered in fur so black it seemed to blot out the fading gray light around it. Her fingers closed around the barrel of the shotgun just as the creature opened its terrible jaws to reveal the longest, sharpest teeth she'd ever seen.
She realized quite suddenly that she'd never shot a gun in her life and wasn't ready to do so now. And then she was running blind, dodging between the trees with the useless shotgun tucked under her arm.
There was another roar from behind her, closer than she'd expected, and she cried out in terror, expecting the feel of its awful claws ripping through her at any moment.
But a gunshot rang out from somewhere above her, deafening even in the open woods.
Ears ringing and eyes swimming with frightened tears, she turned in time to see the creature fall, landing at her feet with a great thud that seemed to shake the ground beneath her.
She just stared down at it for a moment, watching its dark blood seep into the cold dirt. And then she spun around, reaching out to steady herself against the tree beside her as she searched the ridge above for the source of the gunshot; for her savior.
She half-expected, half-feared, it to be a member of the Home Guard but the man she saw above her was unfamiliar. His hair was long and filthy, his face roughened by a patchy beard. His clothing was tattered and hung in his rags from his thin frame.
As she looked at him, his eyes rose to meet hers and she was struck by the color of them – blue as a frozen river. And then he swayed on his feet, the gun falling from his hands and sliding down the ridge towards her.
She gasped, hand over her pounding heart, as he fell backwards and disappeared from her sight. Grabbing up his still-warm rifle, she tucked it under her arm with her shotgun and set her mind to clambering up the face of the ridge.
It was an ungainly endeavor, made more so by the long skirts of her dress, but the fear still running through her veins propelled her onward.
Short of breath, with dirt beneath her fingernails and palms scratched raw by the rocky earth, she approached the man with caution.
He was curled up on his side like a child, looking harmless, but she wasn't fooled by appearances these days. She took a step closer, kneeling down beside him to find he was but a crumpled shell. The bones in his face were much too prominent and his skin seemed to be stretched painfully tight across them, stained as it was by dirt and blood.
His chest appeared still, much too still for him to be breathing. She dangled her fingers, nearly numb from the cold, above his lips but felt no breath and no warmth to indicate it. But surely he couldn't already be dead. He had been on his feet not a moment ago, firing his gun with a timeliness and accuracy for which she'd always be grateful.
With another uneasy glance at the stranger's face, she leaned over and pressed her ear to his cold, dry lips.
For a moment there was nothing, but then she felt a shallow, gasping breath tingling warm against her cold flesh. It was faint but it was there – the stranger was alive.
Her hand landed on his shoulder as she straightened and, to her surprise, his eyes opened to slits and fixed on her face.
He grunted something unintelligible, his face contorted with pain at the effort of it.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked stiffly, leaning in a bit closer to hear him.
He licked his cracked lips and tried again, eyes squeezing closed as he mumbled, "You an angel?"
She sat up, rigid with surprise. But it seemed he was gone again, his mouth slack. She leaned over him once more and was relieved to find he was still breathing though he was clearly not conscious.
The earth was hard and cold under her knees, damp even through her thick skirt. She realized, with some trepidation, that she couldn't leave him here. He'd die here on the cold, wet ground and she couldn't, in good conscience, let that happen to the man who'd just saved her life.
Tugging at his arm, she found he wasn't nearly as heavy as she would have expected a man to be. No doubt the poor man was near-starving just as she was.
She set the guns down, sliding both of her arms under his and hooking them over his shoulders. She was able to sit him up and then drag him to his feet with little resistance. And once upright, he seemed inclined to stay that way though he leaned heavily on her, his head lolling forward on his shoulders.
She nearly lost him as she bent to gather up their guns, bowed under their twin weight as well as his.
She tucked them under one arm and slid the other around his waist, face warming as she felt the hard muscles and sharp ribs beneath his threadbare shirt.
Together, the staggered off through the woods. It was slow going at first, until they started down the side of the ridge that sloped gently out of the forest. Momentum was on her side and they kept a good pace, stumbling a bit as the darkness grew ever heavier around them.
"The bear," he murmured after a time, the sound of his low, gravelly voice close to her ear catching her off guard. "The…the bear."
"You killed it," she told him uncertainly, arm tightening around him.
"Gotta…gotta drag it…drag it home," he babbled, his hand bouncing limply against her chest with every step.
"You can't even walk," she told him though she wasn't sure he could even hear. "There will be no dragging of bears tonight."
He sagged against her then, his knees buckling, and she stopped to gather him up, nearly losing her grip on their guns in the process.
"Stand up," she told him, the sharpness of her tone belying the fact that she was begging. "Please. You must."
Some small conscious part of him seemed to be making an effort though he tripped over his own feet as she propelled him along.
She picked up speed as they emerged from the cover of the trees, feeling the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. She felt as though someone, somewhere in the darkness was watching them but to her eyes, it appeared they were alone.
A field of tall grass was all that stood between her and home. It was to be planted come spring, assuming they didn't starve to death before then.
Her shoulder ached as the man swayed on his feet again and she sighed, stopping to gather him to her side once more. He was either getting heavier or she was getting weaker.
Just when she was beginning to think she'd never make it, she saw a familiar figure racing across the field to meet her. The wind picked up and the tall grass rolled in waves, flashing silver in the faint moonlight.
"Maggie!" she called out, steps faltering as she lost her grip on the man.
Without her support, he pitched forward and crumpled to the ground. Between the grass and the darkness, she lost sight of him and dropped the guns to feel around for him.
The dried stalks whipped against her face as she bent over, calling out for Maggie again.
"Carol!" Maggie gasped as she reached her. "Are you okay? I heard a shot!"
Carol cursed under her breath and then breathed a sigh of relief as her fingers finally touched warm flesh.
"If you heard the shot, I'll bet the Home Guard did too," Carol told her, wrapping her hand around the man's wrist and tugging. "Help me, Maggie."
Maggie did as she was told, dragging the man to his feet and shrugging his arm around her shoulders. Carol took up his other side and he slumped towards her, whimpering.
Carol could feel the girl's eyes on her even in the darkness.
"Who is he?" Maggie asked.
"I'll tell you when we're home," Carol told her quietly as they made their way towards the house. After a moment's consideration, she added, "He saved my life."
There was a candle glowing in the window, flickering bright in the darkness. She knew Maggie would have a fire going in the hearth and her body positively ached for the warmth it would provide.
She'd gained no food today, only another mouth she couldn't feed. But still, something told her she'd done the right thing.