Chapter 7

During the afternoon Vincent helped Catherine put her boots on and supported her to an area she could use as a bathroom and then showed her where the river was. Catherine could not walk far with her sprained ankle and on the return journey Vincent lifted her into his arms and carried her. It was debatable who enjoyed it more.

Vincent didn't normally leave his camp during daylight hours, fearing discovery. Regularly over the last month he'd heard rifle fire echo around the valley and he particularly did not wish to be seen anywhere near a hunter. During his short excursion with Catherine he'd been on high alert, listening to everything, as he constantly monitored the level of threat. It was a relief to return to camp.

That evening Vincent removed the earth covering his improvised oven and was gratified by the aroma that greeted his nostrils. Breaking open the hunk of meat he passed some to Catherine. It was burnt on the outside but inside it was tender and tasty from the long, slow cooking.

"Um, the fish was good, Vincent, but this is delicious," said Catherine.

"It makes a welcome change." Vincent agreed as he turned away to eat.

"Will you please stop doing that?" commanded Catherine.

"Doing what, Catherine?" he asked, although he knew what she was referring to.

"Turning away, when you eat. Don't be embarrassed in front of me."

"I did not wish to—distress you."

"You don't distress my, Vincent. In fact, you're one of the least distressing people I've ever met."

Vincent blushed and lowered his head. "You are kind, Catherine."

"Only truthful. I work in a corporate law firm and I see people scheming against each other day in and day out. Everybody's after what they can get, how much money they can make, how they can come out on top. But you, you come from a world where people genuinely care for each other, you work together to help bring out the best in everyone. You have proved yourself to be a protector and a gentleman."

"I am not a gentleman." Vincent felt decidedly uncomfortable with her assessment of him.

"You are, Vincent, in every sense of the word, you are a gentle man."

"I don't even know if I am a man," revealed Vincent. He looked down at his hands and continued. "These hands are not gentle."

"Your hands saved my life." Catherine hobbled across to Vincent and sat beside him.

"I am only glad that I was there." A sudden image entered his head of Catherine lying dead, mauled by the bear. A cold shiver ran through him and he shook his head to clear it.

They sat together for the rest of their meal, which included another piece of chocolate for dessert.

Vincent tilted his head back and gazed up into the night sky.

"The stars look so clear, so intense in this dark wilderness," he remarked. "In the city the stars must compete with manmade lights."

Catherine looked up and felt swallowed by the cosmos. "Is that Cassiopeia?" She pointed overhead at a cluster of stars.

"Yes, and that's Perseus just below it," he replied. "Perseus was the son of Zeus and in legend he cut off the head of the Medusa."

Catherine was again amazed by Vincent's knowledge and his ability to impart information so naturally.

"I sit here night after night under this mantel of heaven," he continued. "I watch the constellations shift as the seasons progress and it makes me feel so infinitesimally small, so insignificant."

"You are not insignificant," said Catherine earnestly, and continued. "Vincent?"

"Yes."

"Why were you kidnapped?" She instantly felt his body tense beside her.

"I was kidnapped because I was trying to help some wounded men and was caught in an explosion." He let out a slow deliberate breath and then continued. "But the reason I was kidnapped was because of my appearance. They thought they could make money by selling me."

"Selling you!" She was aghast.

"To a circus," he admitted in a flat tone. "A—freak show."

"No!" Catherine felt stunned by this revelation. "I'm so sorry."

"It was not your doing."

"I'm still sorry," she said. "Man's inhumanity never ceases to amaze me."

"There is good and bad everywhere. It was a member of the group that kidnapped me who helped me escape," he informed her.

"Vincent, I can get you home." An idea of how to accomplish it started to form in her mind.

"Home—what a wonderful word." He could sense excitement rising through her, felt it through this Bond he had developed so quickly with her.

"If I meet the transport in four days time I can go into Campton and hire a vehicle and come back for you."

"You would do that for me?" Vincent asked, incredulous.

"Are you kidding, after all you've done for me?" She twisted on the log to look into his pure blue eyes. "I would do anything for you."

Their eyes locked and held for a long moment until they broke the contact simultaneously, feeling overpowered by the intensity of their feelings.

Silence ensued as they gazed into the campfire and listened as its hissed and crackled. Suddenly, Catherine slipped her hand under Vincent's, where it rested against his leg. Vincent's heart pounded in his chest.

When it was time to retire for the night Vincent gave Catherine his cloak which she refused, unless he would share it. The air had become icy and with Vincent's loss of body fat he was feeling the cold too. Eventually they settled, back to back on the mat, wrapped snugly in the cloak. They each gained comfort and warmth from the other's presence.

Sometime during the night Catherine stirred and realized that Vincent had turned in his sleep. She was now spooned against him, encircled by his warm arms, held close. She smiled to herself as she slipped back into her dreams.

….

Two more days passed, filled with simple, yet necessary tasks to ensure their continued survival. They ate the rest of the cooked bear meat along with more fish that Vincent caught at the river, some trail mix from Catherine's supplies and, of course, the precious supply of chocolate.

On the day they had planned to leave for the trailhead, Catherine woke and knew instantly that she was alone. Confused and worried she set off in search of Vincent when he didn't return. Her ankle was much improved and with her boot giving added support she could nearly walk normally. She made her way to the river, thinking he might have gone there to catch fish. On rounding the last bend she was stopped in her tracks by what she saw.

Vincent stood, waist deep in the river, naked and glorious in the rays from the recently risen sun. She knew she should leave, immediately, but was unable to drag her eyes away. His physique was obviously muscular, but lean and underweight, the bones of his spine were clearly visible, the result of semi-starvation. Soft fur covered his arms and back and she could only imagine it continued under the water. His hair fell wet and long over his shoulders. He was magnificent. Catherine thought he was about the turn but changed his mind; she forced herself to retreat in order to save them both from embarrassment.

Get a grip, Chandler, steady on!

She hurried back to camp as quickly as her ankle would allow. On arrival she concentrated on calming her breathing, and didn't think it was exertion from the walk that kept her pulse racing. She tried, unsuccessfully, to banish a sudden image that filled her mind. She imagined herself rubbing her hands up Vincent's back, across his wide shoulders and down his arms. Her whole body felt like it were about to ignite.

When Vincent finally returned, his hair was still hanging in wet tendrils, and neither he nor Catherine said a word or made eye contact.

He knows I saw him. How did he know I was there?

Finally, Vincent broke the silence. "I have soap, if you would like to visit the river."

"I apologize, Vincent," she rushed to confess. "I didn't mean to spy on you."

"I know, I felt your concern and knew you would come," he told her.

"What do you mean you felt my concern?" She asked him, perplexed.

"Since the beginning—I have sensed your emotions. When you're happy or sad I feel it here." He placed his open hand against his chest. "And when you're angry or worried I feel that even more strongly."

"That is amazing," exclaimed Catherine, struggling with the concept.

"Father calls it my "gift," however I have never felt it so keenly before," admitted Vincent, blushing. "Also I heard your approach. If you would like a wash before we leave I can stay out of sight and listen for any danger."

"Yes, I'd like that," she admitted. "Is the water very cold?"

"I think "bracing" describes it best." He smiled, showing his teeth once more and this time he didn't try to hide them.