She moved silently throw the thicket at the edge of the great lake, a crude, handcrafted spear already cocked to her shoulder. She watched intently as the ciervos moved cautiously to the water's edge, the little ones prancing around their mother's legs, ever playful. Her eyes locked onto the giant stag that stood watching while his family drank from the icy cool lake. She had little interest in his grand antlers, in fact she would probably have to leave the head, the weight of it too much, but she hated to kill the soft eyed doe while her young looked on. She hated to even be hunting here, normally she just came silently to watch the different animals drinking in this secluded glade, they kept her company when she was lonely. But she was hungry, the long winter had been hard on both her and the local herds and her stocks were running low. Two days ago she had ventured farther north than she had intended in search of fresh meat, but they only living thing she had seen had been the strangers. She had known instantly that they were not of this world, their clothes and their words were strange. She had watched them for a while as they had passed through the forest, but her hunger had driven her back here. She drew back her arm, ready to hurl her sharpened spear into the unprotected chest of the stag, but the animal's head lifted sharply and with a cry of alarm, the family of ciervos bolted away. She would have cursed had she know such words, but instead she looked sadly after the animals, before stiffly rising from her crouched position.

She whistled a low whistle and a snow white stallion appeared from the thick trees, nickering nervously as he approached. She ran her hand over his muscular neck calming him slightly, before raising her face to the wind and sniffing lightly at the air. Something had spooked the ciervos and something was making Relam nervous. Her nose caught the slight metallic tang of blood on the wind; there must be a dead animal nearby. At the end of the cold season carnivores were quick to home in on the smell of blood. She was about to mount, hoping to get far enough away before the leones came looking for fresh meat, when she heard a distinctly human cry and a splash from further up the bank.

She looked in the direction of the noise, unsure whether to investigate or to forget she had heard anything and get out of the area before the leones came. She shock her head and moved down the bank, following the curve of the water, there was another splash, startling the birds which were sleeping in the trees, and then silence.

The bundle of green that lay only halfway out of the water didn't take on human shape until she was only a few feet away. She moved closer cautiously, the smell of blood now strong, but the man was obviously unconscious. She recognized him as one of the strangers she had seen in the forests to the north two days previously. He was the first person she had seen this close in many years and he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. His injuries were serious and he would surely die if she left him here.

She called Relam and used all of her strength to lift the stranger onto the animals back tying him in place so that he wouldn't fall, soothing the horse when his ears lay flat against his head. He didn't like the smell of blood any more than she did, but like her he was used to it.

___________________________________________________

Jack groaned as his mind began to clear, he wasn't dead, of that he was pretty sure, being dead couldn't hurt this much. His whole body hurt, hell even his hair hurt. He inched his eyes open, taking in the roof of the cave. Cave? The air around him was bitterly cold and he was trembling slightly, his breath fogging as it left his mouth, but for the most part he was warm. His fingers gripped at the warm furs that engulfed his body. Furs? His training kicked in and he did a metal check on his body, his left leg and arm hurt like hell, so did breathing, he also had one hell of a headache.

He reached for his radio with his right arm, only to find that he was almost completely naked under the mountain of animal hide that was covering him. At least he still had his boxers, thank god for small graces.

Sound from the entrance of the cave drew his attention and he tried to lift his head, a cry of pain escaping his lips before he could stop it.

"No te muevas"

A young woman appeared at his side, her hands sure and calm as she helped him to sit up slightly, propping his back up with another bundle of furs. She moved towards the dying fire and fed it with the wood that was piled up against the wall of the cave, and he was instantly grateful for the heat that poured from the growing flames. When she returned she sat crossed legged next to him and handed him a crude hand carved cup filled with steaming liquid. He looked at her, sniffing the tea suspiciously. She was dressed primitively, even more so than the villagers he had met before falling. Her leggings were little more than supple leather wrapped and tied around her legs, her tunic was crudely stitched to give it some form. He sniffed the tea again, looking into her face.

"No te hare daño" she said "Bebe. Lo vas a necesitar"

He didn't understand her words, but he felt like he should, but she had gestured to the cup which he still held in his hands indicating that she wanted him to drink. He looked down at the cup.

"Oh hell. What harm can it do?"

He threw it back in one gulp, feeling the hot liquid warming his throat and stomach. She watched him intently for a few moments before moving closer and gently pulling back the furs that were covering him. He thought to protest, but the tea was already making him slightly drowsy, his headache had subsided and the pain in his leg, arm and ribs had dulled slightly. She examined his ribs carefully, and although she was obviously trying not to hurt him, she found four that ripped cries of pain from his throat. She wrapped his chest tightly with some type of bandage and then briefly examined his arm and leg, before standing gracefully and moving to the wood pile, taking time to pick out four long straight poles. He watched through heavy eyes and she sat down again at his eyes.

"Febula" she explained, showing him the wood and indicating to his arm.

It took his brain a moment to work out what she was doing, but when she gripped his hand and began to apply pressure the spike of pain cleared his head. He screamed as he felt the broken bone slip into place and watched as she quickly placed the wood on either side of his set arm and quickly bound the splint into place. He was sweating and grabbed her hand as she moved towards his leg. She looked up at his her eyes filled with remorse.

"Lo siento" She whispered "Pero tengo que hacerlo"

He frowned, his fingers still tightly gripping her wrist. Her words were familiar somehow. He had heard something similar before. He looked at her closely; her long black hair was swept over one shoulder, framing one side of her olive skinned face. Her lips were full and she was breathing hard from the effort of setting his arm, but it was her eyes that really changed her face from merely pretty, to extraordinarily beautiful. Large emerald green eyes, that gleamed with compassion.

She wrenched her hand away from him "Lo siento"

Apart from her eyes her face looked distinctly like the faces of the women he had seen during a mission in Colombia. He had thought at the time that the raven haired women he saw there were the most beautiful he had ever seen, and had desperately learned as much Spanish as possible in hopes of conquering a Latin beauty. But this strange woman, whose eyes burned with an intensity that he had never seen before, was more beautiful than any of the women he had seen in South America. She reached for his leg again gripping his ankle tightly.

"¡Espera!" he cried. That was it; whatever she was speaking it was close to the pigeon Spanish he had learned in Columbia.

She hesitated.

"Espera. Espera. Por favor. Wait. Please"

She cocked her head slightly, but released his ankle, rocking back slightly on her heels and studying him.

"Why wait?" she asked.

"Because it hurts" he growled.

She seemed to accept this and took the empty cup he had dropped on the floor beside him and moved back to the fire. She fed more wood into the blaze and stood looking at him for a moment. He also studied her. Her clothing was crude, but the affect was none the less incredible. The leather of her leggings molded to her legs showing the taunt muscles tensing slightly underneath, her tunic was loose but he could easily make out the curve of her waist which led his eyes upwards to her breasts.

She blushed slightly and he wasn't sure why, but she handed him another cup of hot tea and crouched next to him pointing to herself.

"Lalia" she said tapping her chest.

"Jack" he answered pointing to himself.

"Jack" she repeated, the 'J' rolling off her tongue in an exotic way.

He drained the cup and motioned for her to continue working on his leg. He gritted his teeth as she took a firm hold on his ankle, bracing herself as she applied pressure.

By the time she had finished they were both sweating and he had let forth a string of curses that would have made a marine blush. Both of the bones in his lower leg had been broken and it had taken time for her to a-line the two properly.

"Lo siento" she whispered, sitting back, her voice almost a sob.

"No problema"

His eyes were heavy, the mixture of pain and the tea she had made catching up on him. His last thought as he slid back into the blackness was that he hoped she had done a good job with the splints, or Frasier was going to have to reset the bones when he got home. He imagined that re-breaking a bone was probably more painful that breaking it.