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WARNINGS: UNRELATED!WINCEST, mentions of abuse physically & mentally (nothing too graphic), torture, there'll be hot stuff in future chapters, rated!M!just!to!beLOVE!STORY, what means you won't find a lot of slash in here
special warning for: implied rape
DISCLAIMER: not mine & no beta
you guys know these vehicles that operate with cow dung? Well, I operate with BACON!
(: THANK YOU for all the GREAT REVIEWS & FOLLOWERS & FAVORITES :)
previously on bruisedbloodybroken aka The Road So Far:
Two hours later ... snow was falling again ... night had broken over the land ... as Baby's heater gave up on them. And the weather report warned about a snow chaos and the coldness that'd come during the night.
Dean glanced at his watch. They had still two hours in front of them ... without any civilisation on their way to their destination ... and it definitely wouldn't get warmer.
NOW:
Fall Of Darkness
Chapter 10 ~ Frozen
Dean pulled the Impala on the side of the road and glanced at Sam, who had dozed off once again – gratefully.
Wasn't that Winchester luck? Baby's heater dying on their way to a safer place? Instead they'd freeze their asses off if he wouldn't be able to repair whatever the cars issue was.
With a silent grunt he got out of the car and a deep sigh wrenched from his throat to evaporate on the nasty cold air. They already had about minus fifty-five fahrenheit and the temperature would drop further.
He walked over to the trunk, skipping it open and picked out a pair of leather gloves, eagerly pulling them over his stiff and freezing fingers. Then he grabbed his flashlight and shuffled back to the hood. As he had switched the flashlight on, he opened ita and after another while of eying the engine and some of the other parts inside, he let out another grunt and a pained hiss. One of the wirings had melted. No way he'd be able to repair it right here on the road in the darkness without even having the part with him. He slapped the hood shut, letting Sam jump up right in the passenger's seat, a half melted Oh Henry in his right hand.
"Baby, don't you do that to me ...", he muttered to himself jittering and shook his head in disappointment. "Not now ..."
Coldness crept thru his clothes. Icy air was nuzzling on his face. The hunter frowned as he got back inside the car, giving a stuttered looking Sam a concerned glance.
Snow was falling again ... he just hoped they'd make it to the cabin in time.
Sam watched the hunter troubled, frowning and narrowing his eyebrows as Dean rubbed his leather-covered hands together. The younger male wanted to figure out what had made the hunter mad. But he knew because of experience that it was the best to keep his head down and mouth shut when someone showed signs of anger like Dean did right now.
"One of the wires burnt thru. - We've no heating, so i guess we've to pull thru the rest of our way, Sammy." He looked at him, his lips tightening. "Might gettin' cold in here soon.", he explained further and tossed the flashlight over his shoulder on the backseat.
Sam just nodded and held half of his Oh Henry's in front of Dean. Sams gaze saying don't-you-worry-kiddo-a-oh-henrys-is-gonna-make-it-all-good-again.
Dean chuckled and took it, eying the piece of chocolate for a minute before he took a giant bite.
"Thanks.". He said chewing and turned the ignition key, calling Baby's heat back to life.
An hour later the giant freezing started. Sam had gotten two blankets from the backseat and had laid one over Dean's lab and the other one over himself. Their limbs were already starting to become stiff. The coldness crawled up their feet and fingers.
Dean shot concerned looks at the passenger's seat. Sam shivered since about fifteen minutes without a single break. Dean did too ... but he actually was used to worse than the cold.
"You okay, Sammy?", he asked, his voice shaky.
The young man nodded. "Yes.", came a silent respond.
"We're there soon.", Dean reassured him, trying to focus back on the icy road in front of them and not to think about his stinging fingers and toes.
It was not even forty-five minutes later, when the car's tail broke out as Dean drove into a slight curve. The Impala started to spin, while the hunter tried to get his Baby back under control. He simply got too tired. He actually was too tired to drive anymore. It might was because of the damn cold, that his body wanted to shut down for the moment. He must have dozed off and nearly killed them both ...
Both men's hearts raced, as the Impala finally got to a stand. Both panted. Dean had nearly peed himself. Sam braced himself frightened against the dashboard in front of him. Not daring to move for a minute.
The hunter leaned back in the driver's seat and closed his eyes for a brief moment. Squeezing his eyes shut for a second to try to clear his vision.
"Dean?", a hesitating request came from the passenger's seat.
He looked at Sam and nodded. "It's okay. - I'm just ... just tired. - it's not very longer." He might wanted to seem reassuring about it, but he didn't. There was no way Sam believed it.
The hunter hissed and touched his forehead where a lump was already growing. He must've hit his head on the steering wheel. Maybe that was why everything thought it was allowed to blur and move around him. He inhaled a sharp breath.
"Sammy." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, trying to focus on the road, but he actually saw two roads and four lanes, so he cursed. He cursed violently.
Sam flinched away and pressed his back against the passenger's seat, eying the hunter warily.
"Sam?", he muttered hoarsely. "You okay?" He glanced at him.
Sam just nodded, rubbing his right temple before he looked at the hunter. instantly noticing that Dean wasn't okay. The way he screwed his eyes shut a couple of times and the pained hiss as he touched the lump on his forehead again ... and he just knew it. He also knew he was able to help him. So Sam laid his hand on Dean's cheek and closed his eyes for a brief second before it got pushed away roughly.
"Don't,", Dean said firmly. "It's okay. Don't you dare and take that one on you." ... after all I screwed up the drive ...
Sam stared at him with wide eyes and nodded. He didn't want to let him heal him. The young man swallowed. Did the hunter think he was something like poison? Didn't he trust him enough on that?
"I can make it go away.", Sam whispered softly, his hand pulling back and pressing against his own body.
Dean looked at him, cursing himself that his words came out rougher than they were meant to be, as he recognized the frightened expression all over Sam's face. He guided his hand on one of the double-vision-lower-thights of the young man, who flinched away violently. Dean didn't care. He laid his hand on his lower thigh and squeezed it gently. "Don't want you to do that." He inhaled. "I know you can, Sammy.", Dean gave him a half-smile. "You're in no shape to take that on you. - Trust me."
Sam's ashamed look flew into his own lab.
"It's just a concussion. - Nothing bad." His vision started to clear slowly, four lanes become two again.
They stood there – across the road – for about fifteen minutes before Dean dared to get his Baby back running.
More careful and slow, since the hunter had some issues to focus on the road and the worse becoming weather. Sam sat crouched in his seat, watching the hunter warily with big darkened orbs.
Why wouldn't he want to let him be helped? He didn't understand ... He'd be whole again within minutes ... Though he didn't try to dare and convince him. - It was never a good idea to gainsay someone with the hunter's skills. He had seen it in the mart before. Dean probably wasn't that nice as he seemed.
After what seemed like a painful eternity they turned into a sideway, wich lead after another couple of miles thru woods and darkness to their destination. And with every mile they past, Dean looked more exhausted, looked more like he would pass out every moment – at least Sam thought so.
The hunter parked his Impala in front of the porch.
"We're 'ere." Dean's voice was broken and barely noticable.
Neither of them was able to feel their toes or fingers anymore. Their cheeks flushed from the coldness and their noses and lips felt frozen. Sam nodded shivering and opened the door. "Dean?", he asked.
"There in a minute.", he got a barely hearable answer.
The young man got out of the car and closed the passenger's door, then walked towards the porch, waiting to hear the driver's door open. But no such thing. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder before he turned around completely and tried to make out the figure in the driver's seat thru the windshield. It was way too dark and the Impala's headlights didn't let him see anything from his direction.
So he narrowed the driver's door hesitantly. Dean was worse – he immediately knew. He just knew. So he opened the car's door and bowed down inside. "Dean?", he asked hesitantly.
The hunter's lips were slightly blue, his usually bright green orbs dazed and their spark of life seemed to fade. Dean's lips moved but no sound came out. Sam's forehead creased in worry. What was he supposed to do?
"I'm back in just a minute, Dean.", he whispered, his voice jittering violently.
The young man glared at the house and its front door, then back at Dean. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't allowed to heal him: dean didn't want it ... Somehow he had to get the hunter inside, get him warmed up ...
Sam ran up the porch and rattled on the door handle, but it wouldn't open.
His heart speed up.
Panic gripped him.
Somehow he had to get him inside the godforsaken house!
Then he remembered. People tended to hide their keys around their houses or close to their front doors. But there wasn't a lot around to hide a key. Firewood and even more firewood on the porch. His gace flew up on the threshold. There was a thin jut. He longed up with his long arms and fumbled around it, biting his lower lip, his too big beany shoving over his eyes once again. Bugged he gripped it and stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket.
He couldn't get his luck. With stiff and shaky fingers he fumbled for the lock and let the key slide inside. Sam slammed the door open and a moldy, even colder scent surrounded him instantly. His first attention drove towards the fire-place right opposite of where he stood. The open room to his left had to be the kitchen. (Gladly the Impala was parked the way that it illuminated the insides of the room behind the front door a little). To his right were three doors. He had to find the bedroom. Hopefully all humans had one. Because he wouldn't want to lay the freezing hunter on the dusty hard floor.
After he had found the bedroom, he grabbed the blankets, pillows and sheets that covered it and pulled them in front of the fire-place, where he spread them out and draped the pillows where he wanted to have Dean's head later.
In unbelievable hurry he pulled off his thick jacket and laid it out there too. Then he hurried back outside, finding Dean crumbled down in the snow. He must've had tried to get into the house by himself.
Sam didn't lose time.
He kneeled down beside him and laid a hand on Dean's cheek, feeling shallow warm breaths against his skin. The young man slid his arms under him and lifted him awkwardly, earning a long-drawn protesting moan from the hunter.
Back in the house, he laid the hunter on the prepared place in front of the fire-place. Then he went back outside and grabbed both blankets from the Impala and hurried back inside, covering the hunter with them.
Now he needed to make fire. He had to make fire. How the hell should he do that? ... He thought, tried to calm down and thought about what he had seen when he was a kid. Most of the things he knew where things he had seen or he had got told ... so ... A lighter. He needed a lighter. Sam glanced at the hunter.
It took Sam some time find the lighter in Dean's jeans, since he hesitated to touch him ... touching him like this. To search thru the hunter's clothes. He got some of the wood from the porch and put it beside the fireplace. He tried so hard to get that damn wood to burn, but it wouldn't work. So he tried to find something else to start the fire ... The trunk ... Maybe the hunter had something in the trunk to burn and get the fire started ... and he did find something, that helped him to make some much-needed fire.
Sam shut the door of the house and went back beside Dean, feeling his forehead and cheeks. He didn't stir. The young man gazed at him worried, trying to figure out what to do, how to help him. He felt so lost, so damn lost ... It would've been easier if he'd healed him ... but Dean didn't want to ... The hunter still felt cold, but he didn't shiver anymore. Was that good? ... no it was bad, wasn't it?
Sam remembered when the black-eyed monsters transported them in their van. They always curled up together on the load bed – he, Jo and Andy. They always shared their body warmth under the single thin sheet they had gotten to keep themselves warm. And it helped. They weren't freezing that bad anymore.
Sam's eyes filled with despair and fear of what could possibly happen after that ... The young man threw a couple of logs into the fire and sat down beside Dean. He sighed deeply and peeled off his shoes and socks. Sam was shaking – he still felt cold, so damn cold ... but it wasn't just the coldness that made him shiver. It was the task before him.
True, they had laid together every night, curled up into each other or at least close to each other. - But this ... somehow ... it felt weird and odd and so different without clothes. The fact that the hunter wouldn't wear more than his pants let him hesitate.
Shoving his thoughts aside, he crawled towards the hunter's feet and pulled off his boots and socks too, covering them again with the blankets. Dean's jeans were wet from the snow he had fallen in, so was his shirt and the jacket partly. So Sam moved upwards and stripped the hunter down to his underwear. Gently and slow, not to irritate him ... not to get him back to consciousness before he'd recognize what Sam was doing. He could always punish him afterwards.
The hunter's skin was cold to the touch, his lips still slightly blue and his breathing was slow and shallow. Sam eyed the body before him for a moment before he covered him again. The young man didn't strip himself. He couldn't ...
So he slipped under the blankets and started to rub Dean's left fingers, hand and arm up to his shoulders. He did the same with his right side, rubbing with his own legs over Dean's. Both of them were cold as ice, but the massages and the rubbing, and the warmth from the fireplace did their work slowly. Too slow for Sam's sense, since Dean hadn't really improved ...
He had to admit that when the three of them warmed each other they wore a whole lot of less clothed ... so he might had to get at least rid of his shirts. So he did. He pulled his shirts over his head and snuggled back against the hunter. Sam rubbed over Dean's stomach and neck and chest and slowly – so slowly he noticed that the both of them started to warm up.
A low groan left the hunters lips, as Sam tugged himself closer and slung his long arms and legs around him, taking care of it, that every single inch (except Dean's head – Sam had tilted his beany over the hunters head.) were tugged under the blankets.
Slowly but surely the hunter started to regain some color and the blue of his lips faded and they became their original soft pink back. Sam cuddled closer, laying his head on Dean's chest and listened to his heartbeat. He wanted to sleep. Wanted to give in and doze off, but he couldn't. The hunter's heartbeat wasn't as fast as usual and it seemed weak somehow ... he had to watch over him, and in case he wouldn't get better he had no other choice. He would've to heal him, if he wanted or not.
"Sam?", came a hoarse question, and the hunter's hand on the stomach shifted a little bit.
"I am here.", he whispered softly. "You will be warm soon."
A long drawn moan came as respond. Sam .. Sam was right, it started to become warmer. He didn't knew how, he couldn't remember when, but there was radiating warmth from his right side and a soft orange-red light came from there. On his other side was Sam. So close to him, snuggled into his side, arms wrapped around him. He felt the younger man's head on his chest. He wanted to ask him if he was okay. He wanted to take care that he wouldn't freeze.
But right now ... obviously ... somehow they had made it into a house or motel? Somehow there was fire and Sam ... and it was warm and slowly started to get comfortable on the hard surface he was laying on. And his damn head hurt like hell. Dean tried to remember how it came. What had happened that they ended up here. Everything was too fuzzy, too blury.
It was just a short lucid waking. Exhaustion and tiredness took their tall on him and carried him away again into the wide land of dreams.
Some time while Sam remained on the hunter's side, his body seemed to get weaker. The young male knew there was something about Dean's head that wasn't right. Sam felt it. He had felt it back in the car and with every passing second, and every single slowing heartbeat of the hunter, the feeling got more and more intense.
Dean didn't want him to make him whole again. He knew it ... but on the other side ... The hunter surely didn't know that it wasn't just a bruise on his forehead ... He surely didn't know that it was getting serious. So he did, what he had to ...
Sam spread his palm over the middle of Dean's chest and closed his eyes. He felt the warmth of the hunters skin on his. He felt the hunter's heart growing stronger again. He felt the things that were happening in Dean's brain vanishing slowly. He'd try to heal him not all at once, so maybe the hunter wouldn't recognize that he had disobeyed. And even if he did ... Sam liked him. He didn't want him to die. He didn't want to be without him. So he'd take whatever punishment he would get for his disobedience.
Sam didn't fall asleep. He didn't dare to. Instead he had left Dean's side when he was all warm again and his heartbeat seemed stronger. The young man took care of the fire, got logs from the porch and got the groceries inside, storing them on a counter in the kitchen.
Though there was no light, no electricity and somehow there was no water to flush the toilet.
Anyways ... he had kept guard all night, doing this and that and watched the hunter while he slept. No matter what he did, he tried to stay as close to him as possible. Every single moan or rustling of blankets drew him on Dean's side to check on him. In between he managed to place the hunter's clothes around the fire place and their shoes.
He also drew sigils on the windows and the front and back door. Sam gathered some of Dean's weapons from the weapon-storage he had found in the trunk and the hunters duffel. Including the two handguns that were stored under the passenger's seat.
Sam had also found a couple of candles with whom he made some light in the kitchen, where he unpacked their groceries and stored them into the cupboards and shelves. Except the food Dean had picked up from the deli department. These things he packed up again and put them on te porch, where they'd stay cool (or frozen).
The hunters head thumped, a stabbing pain and bright daylight brought him back to conciousness. He felt a comfortable warmth surrounding him, the soft blankets shifting over his skin as he tried and roll over to his side. That was when he realized that he was nearly naked, and remained just in his underwear in front of a fireplace, on layers of something soft and silken.
That was when he realized, that wherever he was right now ... that he was on his own. There was no warm body beside him, no one whose arms were tangled around or vice versa. The hunter blinked his eyes open. First his vision was blurry, and the stabbing pain increased as he turned towards his left where daylight beamed thru the windows.
"Sam?", he asked and laid a hand on his forehead. Even to hear his own voice hurt as hell.
His attention turned towards the fire. It was still burning and there were two logs left beside the fire-place. Someone must have had made fire. Someone must've had stripped him out of his clothes and prepared a nest for him in front of the fire to keep him warm.
His look fell on the hanged up clothes of him in front of the fire-place and his and Sam's shoes on the floor near it. He sat up awkwardly and looked around. The door into a room that seemed to be a kitchen stood open and the soft scent of coffee and scrambled eggs and bacon flooded towards him. He closed his eyes and groaned. This smell meant heaven.
And slowly he started to remember. He had hit his head after they nearly had an accident, but he kept on driving. He remembered that Sam wanted to heal him and that he pushed him away and had said NO. He remembered that he wanted to try to get out of the car by himself after Sam had disappeared. Actually he had thought Sam had taken off, would try to get away by his own somehow. That was until he had felt arms around him, lifting him and that smell that meant nothing else but SAM.
Dean looked around and his gaze fell on a couch behind him and a small table with a TV on it a couple of feet away from his feet. He slowly rose and swayed for a moment. As he was sure that it was save to try to walk, he examined the duffel on the couch. It was his. So he gathered a set of fresh clothes and dressed himself before he started to check the house.
The prepared breakfast in the kitchen stood on the stove, where a small fire was gleaming. So someone had made breakfast and was gone ... though not for long since the scrambled eggs still seemed to be hot, so did the coffee that was slightly boiling. He bowed down and inhaled a deep breath with the strong scent of coffee, when he heard the front door squeak and open silently.
His hunter senses kicked in immediately and he sneaked to the kitchen door, lurking around the corner.
A tall figure guided the door back into the lock with a bare foot. A pile of logs in his arms. Wearing nothing but a pair of blue jeans and a shirt.
"Sam?!", Dean called out relieved and took a quick step out of the kitchen.
The young man took a sharp inhale and all the logs crumbled loudly to the floor. He stared pale and blankly at the hunter, swallowing hard. First he had stripped him down ... second he had healed him partially (maybe the hunter wouldn't even remember that, since he wasn't conscious). Third ... he had left the house without authorization. Fourth ... he had messed up his trunk ... Fifth ...
he wasn't able to go on with his list, as the hunter spoke again. "Are you okay?"
Well, Sam would've thought about something else he'd say. He just nodded, watching the man warily as he emerged completely from the kitchen and took two steps back as the hunter made two steps towards him.
"What is it?", Dean asked and he narrowed his eyebrows, eying the young man. He had thought they were over this?
"Are you mad?", Sam asked, curling his toes.
"No ...", he answered confused, his gaze glued to Sam's red toes and feet and the melting snow on them. "You were outside like this?" He pointed at his shirt and then at his feet.
Sam followed the hunters look and nodded shyly.
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and stepped over the logs with a deep sigh. "Dude. - You can't just go outside like that." He sighed again as he stood before him, catching the younger man's gaze. "You'll catch a cold or worse." The hunter's voice was so soft, so caring ...
Silence. Just their looks. Emerald-green eyes like liquid crystals glued to hazel-green ones.
Dean reached for Sam's hand, shuddering as he closed his fingers around Sams. "C'mon. - Breakfast, i'm starving." Dean smiled and pulled him into the kitchen. He looked around, noticing that the surfaces and the floor were dusty as hell. Just the table in the middle of the small room was clean, so were the chairs. "Guess we've to clean up later, huh?"
The hunter guided Sam to the table and let him sit down. Then he turned around (because more wasn't necessary) and shoveled the scrambled eggs on the two prepared plates, so he did with the bacon, and placed one of them before Sam and one where he would sit. Then he got them both coffee and placed it on the table. He handed him a fork and bread and finally sat down.
"Get your feet on my lab." Dean petted on his own knees and looked up from his plate.
Sam straightened his legs. They were long enough (or the table was small enough) so it was no problem he'd do that. The hunter tugged them under his shirt and moved closer to the table, so Sam's cold toes met his stomach.
The hunter shivered and rubbed Sam's toes for a while, as he forked eggs on his fork and got them into his mouth.
"Awesome.", Dean groaned and looked at the younger man, who poked around in his eggs and occasionally took a bite.
"You're tired.", the hunter noticed surprised and leaned back, laying his other hand on the big feet under his shirt. "Did you get some sleep last night?"
Sam took another bite from the bread and gazed up under dark strains of hair. His look was wary.
"You haven't. - have you? ... you watched out for me ..." Dean glanced around, scanning the room and the floor. "You've ... you've stored the groceries?" His gaze ghosted over the thin layer of screwed up dirt on the floorboards.
He didn't know if he should feel embarrassed or glad about the fact that Sam had watched over him.
Sam nodded. "Except the once that need cooling. - They're still outside on the porch.", he answered silently and leaned back with a moan, eyes fluttering shut as Dean drove his thumb over his sole. A tingling feeling shot up the younger man's leg and streight over his spine into his neck. This felt good.
A faint grin ghosted over Dean's face right then and he shoved another fork full of eggs into his mouth.
The hunter was kind of impressed that Sam was able to do things on himself, not needing a leader ... maybe he'd be able to be live normal one day ...
Dean petted the giant feet and leaned over his plate again to pick up a stripe of bacon. "Eat your breakfast, Sam.", he said silently. "And get some sleep afterwards."
The younger man's eyes snapped open. "No.", his eyebrows furrowed. "I mean ..." His gaze fell and he wanted to pull his feet back, but Dean held them firmly in place.
Sam tensed visibly, his breathing sped up and he lowered his gaze, as his face darkened. "I'm sorry.", he muttered.
The hunter's forehead furrowed. "What are you sorry for?"
"I ... I didn't mean to take issue on your orders.", Sam muttered. He had to remind himself more often what his place was. - If he wanted to keep his clothes, his shoes and a warm place to sleep he had to obey. Had to take what the hunter was giving. - He wasn't a bad man. At least not since he knew him. He hadn't beaten him yet, he hadn't made him do things ... he didn't lock him away ...
Dean let go of the younger man's feet and let out a long-drawn sigh.
"Okay ... so ... if you want you can get some sleep later ..." Dean didn't want to let things sound like orders ... not when it was about Sam. Not ever. He had the slight feeling that most of the younger man's life had depended on orders ... "After you've eaten your breakfast." This was definitely meant as an order.
Sam nodded, still staring into his lab.
The hunter lifted his shirt and gave Sam his feet back ... it wasn't like they belonged to Dean anyway.
They ate their remaining breakfast in silence. While Sam wanted to clean up the bedroom, Dean went outside and started the gas-generator in the small shed on the backside of the house, so they'd have electricity. Then he turned on the water, since they needed to shower and clean up their dishes at some point.
Somehow his headache was getting better by hour. Usually he was used to have a heavy head and being dizzy for days after what had felt like a concussion. But maybe he had been wrong and it hadn't been all that bad ... or SOMEONE had helped with it. The hunter gritted his teeth and was about to storm into the house and nail Sam against the first best wall he'd find ... but then. What the hell? The kid sure as hell didn't look like that. Last time he had done something like that he had been out cold for a couple of hours and afterwards he wasn't doing well either.
Dean took a couple of deep breaths before he went back inside, and glanced around. The mess in front of the fire-place was gone now and a glance into the bedroom showed that the sheets were back where they belonged to. So was Sam. A bulge formed on one side of the bed under the sheets and Dean smiled. "That's my boy."
What the hunter didn't see was, that Sam wasn't asleep. He wasn't calm. He wasn't relaxed ... Sam had his hand pressed against his chest, right where the demonic tattoo marked his body and tried to breathe thru the pain ...
An abandoned warehouse, somewhere in the USA ...
A red-haired woman sat slumped into a black leather recliner. Before her a broad desk and a brass-bowl on it, filled with red liquid. She held an atame in her hands, wich's blade gleamed in the rare daylight that beamed into the giant hall. The womans eyes flashed black as she started to chant in an old – long forgotten – language and engravings on the blade started to glow in a dangerous red. It looked like the red liquid in the bowl started to boil. And she leaned over it.
"It won't work if he's too far away, Ma'am.", a hesitating voice was heard and a man in a black suit stepped out of the shadows.
She smiled softly. "I know ...", she gave back calmly, as she leaned over the bowl and stared at it. "Soon you're mine again ..." A devilish grin formed on her lips as she tipped the blade into the liquid.
Then she guided it over a map and closed her eyes for a moment. As she opened them again all blackness was gone and her grin widened. Then she looked up and caught the man's gaze. "He left the salvage ..."
... to be continued
next chapter: chapter 11 ~ Snow is Falling