Danica was met by the embers of the fire, the remnant coals resembling dying stars. Ridges from the carpet engrained her cheek where she had fallen asleep – she hadn't even made it to the bed. She rubbed her eyes, pushing the palms of her hands into her sockets as the phosphenes began to waltz. Pastels merged with neons and monotones, every shade dancing with the next.
And there it was again: Red. Glowing rubies that had followed her from her dreams; eyes unlike any she had seen before, even awake she could see them as clear as day. They had shone so brightly amidst the snow, just like the blood that covered their body and hands. They couldn't have been too far from the cabin, she hadn't walked too far in her dreams. She needed answers. Hachiman, the attack, everything played in her mind like a film on loop.
Outside, the snow whipped and lashed at the scurvy panes of glass; in between flurries the wind howled, the screeches chilling her warmed digits instantly. It was still dark, she couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours. Still, her neck ached and the thought of trudging through the storm made her already tired muscles weep prematurely. Danica knew she would probably regret this. She knew that whatever lay out in that storm was going to throw a spanner in the works.
"Yob." Fuck. She scowled and grabbed her boots.
Danica instantly regretted her decision. The wind bit her cheeks and the snow clung to her lashes forming a barricade of hail. The storm had caused the snow to build up to her knees, stray clumps falling into her boots and squelching between her toes.
"Mudak." Motherfucker. Danica cursed, attempting to pull her coat closer around her and savour the dying warmth from the fire. If this person wasn't dead already she was going to kill them – that's if she didn't die of hypothermia first or trench foot.
She paused in the clearing, any sign of life had been masked by the storm, even the evergreens that stood proudly wore a coat of white. There was something almost clinical looking about them, fir trees in lab coats, that's what they reminded her of.
A mound of brown caught her eye. There was only one thing that would even dare face the storm head on. A bear. She halted in her tracks, the snow instantly erasing her footsteps as though she was never there. The giant bear akin to the one in her dreams stared at her through the bleat; its beady orbs stared back at her, devoid.
"Misha!" Danica called out, her voice instantly carried by the wind. But the bear heard her. It knew its name. "Misha, over here!"
The bear trundled through the storm, its giant paws smushing the growth of snow with considerable ease. White dotted its fur; despite its stature, the bear blended into wind, it was a fanged breeze and clawed gust.
"Misha," Danica smiled, running a heavily gloved hand over the bear's head; her hand was so tiny in comparison to his paws - her paws. "I need your help, Misha."
The bear looked up at her, like a dog idolising its master, except Danica was not his master - they were equals. Kindred spirits of sorts. The bear knew what she wanted. She wanted to save another life. She was risking her own in save of another, again.
Misha huffed his agreement and accompanied Danica towards the tree. Towards the stranger he did not like the smell of. At the sight of him, Danica almost un-holstered the pistol hidden beneath her coat. Every fibre of her being told her to turn around and run, that the stranger there would be the death of her.
Russian, or just plain stubborn, Danica ignored the twist in her gut and the fleeting feeling in her feet. Instead she huddled beside them and felt for a pulse in their neck.
Thump…………Thump…………Thump
Faint. But alive nonetheless. They were a live snowman, their form barely decipherable from the growing flurries. Working fast, Danica unpacked and folded stretcher from her backpack.
Partially frozen the person was stiff to the touch, as if rigamortis had already lay claim to their body. Limb by limb, Danica folded and unfolded their joints, carefully laying them onto the stretcher before rooting through her backpack for a blanket. Danica worked quickly and efficiently. It wasn't her first rodeo. Misha grunted as if in warning; the storm was worsening by the second. The storm would consume them whole; in one large bite, they would be gone.
"Misha, you know where to go." Danica ordered, fastening the harness around the oversized sleigh dog. The bear grunted again in acknowledgement. One step at a time, Misha navigated through the snow, the stretcher gliding over the top effortlessly. Danica trundled on behind, being sure to keep pace. Her tiny human steps were nothing in comparison to the bear. Oh how she missed the strides of her dreams. Long, powerful strides. Not the clumsy, overcalculated steps of her human legs. Damn anatomy.
Like the Aniva Lighthouse, the outpost cabin was a beacon. Sanctuary. Misha halted at the front door, the cabin was no place for a bear. He had seen how the humans mounted the walls with the skin of his brothers and sisters. Fur plastered from floor to ceiling. It made his claws itch for a fight. Danica was different from the other humans. She was one of his own. Family.
"Thank you, Misha." Danica ruffled the bear's head, unclipping the harness as she went. "Now go, go back to your cave until the storm passes. And avoid the roads, soldiers are patrolling." Those humans. He would happily sink his claws into those ingrates. Filthy, horrible humans.
The bear disappeared into the storm once more, the wind almost carrying him where he pleased. Nudging the door open, Danica dragged the stretcher inside, immediately battling to put the door back on the latch.
"Mudak." Motherfucker. Danica hissed at the door, kicking it when the latch finally fell into place. Deadbolt on, Danica turned back to the stretcher, her stomach dropping at the task ahead of her. If they survived the night, the person had one stubborn guardian angel.
She shrugged off her backpack and coat and stared at the wound that was oozing into the blanket. So much blood. It was carnage. How this person was still alive was beyond her. "You must be one tough cookie, or just one stubborn ass." Danica muttered, in part to herself.
She cleaned her hands and began attempting to reverse the damage. Tissue, muscle, all of it, shredded. Clawed. Just like the woman in the hospital. Amongst the gore, a single claw caught her eye. It was no cat claw or even that of a bear. The dark nail sat in the palm of her hand, it reaching fingertip to palm. Enormous. Deadly. "What the fuck?" The claw had ripped them open as easily as a tin opener.
Still, Danica pushed on. Stitch after stitch. Bandage after bandage. With the final knot of the suture sitting neatly at the end of the wound, Danica admired her handiwork. The cabin had become a battlefield of medical supplies; stray needles littered the flood whilst a mountain of bloodied gauze and strips of stray shirt lay scattered on the floor. A testament to their survival.
If they survived the night.
