Chapter Fourteen

.

Snowflakes drift down from the heavens. A cold wind blows from the north, sending shivers down our spines. Thanks to the herd of bison that came stomping through only minutes before, Ewar and I have little left in the way of food, water, and other life-saving supplies. Last but not least, we are stranded in literally the middle of nowhere. There's no place for us to go, no one to turn to for help.

Welp, looks like we've just stumbled across the secret recipe for nightmare fuel.

I glance at Ewar. Maybe he will know what to do to get us out of this mess. He stands unmoving, icy flakes clinging to his hair and shoulders. A dazed look has glossed over his normally sharp eyes. He stares into the never-ending horizon, lost in his thoughts.

"Ewar, are you all right?" Has the added stress become too much for him?

His startled eyes flit up upon hearing my voice. He focuses solely on my face. The disorientation fades. In an abrupt turnaround, he sets off to pick through the trampled remains of our supplies. He is especially interested in collecting the broken pieces of the sledge. Why he wants those bits of wood is a mystery, but I join the search regardless. We manage to gather a small pile.

Our next project isn't so simple. We need shelter. The tent was one of the few things that wasn't harmed during the stampede. However, the sledge doubled as the frame. Since the sledge was broken into dozens of pieces, we have no frame to support the tent. No frame means there's no way we can build the tent. No tent means no shelter. And no shelter during a brutal winter weather event can mean only one thing.

We're gonna become human popsicles before this day is over.

Ewar must have a different outlook than I do. He has a plan. He sharpens the small pieces of wood we collected and stabs these improvised stakes through the tent's tough animal hide. Using a rock, he pounds the tent's stakes into the dirt wall of the hillside and secures the bottom portion to the ground. The tent is now at a half triangle against the hillside. It's the strangest shelter I've ever seen - but it's brilliant! The hillside itself is the backbone of our tent, hence no need for a frame. And with the way it's situated, the hill blocks some of the wind.

Maybe we won't die from exposure, after all. We'll just lose a couple of fingers and toes to frostbite.

Wow. I'm being optimistic for once.

Ewar gives me a simple task: gather as much dried grass as I can and lay it down on the floor of the shelter. It's instant insulation. Meanwhile, he disappears for several minutes. He returns with an armload of dried animal dung. It's a decent firewood substitute. Still, it's disgusting. I would normally insist he rinse his hands after touching the nasty stuff. Regrettably, we have very little water remaining. We cannot afford the luxury of hand washing. The best I can do is scrub his dirty hands with a scrap of fabric and dream of antibacterial soap.

A bone-chilling gust of wind barrels through, forcing Operation Get Ewar Clean to an abrupt end. It wouldn't be safe to start a fire in these conditions. He motions for me to enter the shelter. He crawls in right after and ties the entryway shut. Our gazes cross - then dart away in opposite directions. Oh boy. We've never shared such a small space before. Typically, he sleeps by the fire, and I always get exclusive use of the tent.

Now we're living right on top of one another.

I scoot backwards until I'm pressed against the dirt wall. He stays near the entrance, hunched over with his knees drawn to his chin. Even with these measures in place, we are uncomfortably close. We sit in awkward silence, listening to the snowflakes tap against the tent. It's hard pretending the other person isn't an arm's reach away, but we're trying our damnedest. To keep my mind off the building tension, my eyes wander. I notice his spear lying a hair's breadth from his fingertips. Why? A part of me wonders if any animal would be insane enough to attack us during a winter storm. The much larger part of me prefers the bliss of ignorance, so I keep my thoughts to myself.

Time crawls. The storm only grows in intensity. With nothing better to do, Ewar sorts through our shitty excuse for supplies. We have the clothes on our backs, a handful of dried meat and berries, and two blankets. I am given the blanket made from some large black animal that had the softest fur imaginable. He makes do with the blanket the bison herd ripped in several places. This isn't fair. Both blankets technically belong to him, yet I'm the one who gets the best one?

To minimize his sacrifice, I pull out my precious clothes from the twenty-first century. I keep the blouse and undergarments; he gets the jeans and socks. He tilts his head, his expression saying, "What am I supposed to do with this?" I lean forward and stuff his bare hands into the socks. VoilĂ , makeshift gloves. As for the jeans, they are wrapped around his neck. I do the same for myself with the blouse. The jeans and blouse are much too thin to ward off the chill the conventional way you wear them, but they work well as face masks and/or scarves.

With most of the clothes gone from the basket, all that's left are the herbs meant for Oza and my phone. The extreme cold can't be good for the phone's battery, so I shove it underneath my tunic. My body heat might be enough to keep it from breaking. Hopefully, the winter weather will pass soon.

That hope evaporates as evening approaches. The wind howls non-stop. Our shelter shakes, as though the Big Bad Wolf is outside threatening to blow it down. The temperature continues to free-fall. We have only a couple of swallows left of our water. It has frozen solid. Ewar opens the doorway a crack, just enough to peek outside. The snow comes down like a curtain. It's impossible to see through.

We're dealing with a blizzard, for sure.

Mealtime comes and goes. Strangely, I feel no hunger. My body concentrates only on the agonizing cold. It has seeped through my fur-lined clothes, mittens, and blanket. I shiver uncontrollably, teeth chattering. My extremities are almost numb. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

"Bella?"

It is dark. I can make out Ewar's outline but no details. I must not answer quickly enough because he repeats my name. His voice has an urgency to it I have not heard before.

"I-it's so c-cold," I stammer.

He crawls closer and removes my left mitten. The pad of his thumb brushes across my knuckles. He makes a humming sound in the back of his throat. Without asking for permission, he whips off the other mitten and cups both my hands to his mouth. Warm, moist air blows over my skin.

I shiver for a reason other than the cold.

Much too soon, he releases my hands from their warm cradle. I'm still a little dazed when he starts moving again, so it's difficult making sense of what's going on. But when he starts messing around with my blanket, the mental fog clears up.

"W-what are you... Eek!"

He slides in beside me. Our blankets are rearranged to cover us both. Although my lips move, words refuse to come out. He invited himself to share my personal space! Unaware of my state of shock, he positions me like a rag doll. I end up sitting with my back against his chest, in between his long legs. He must have pulled down his scarf too. I know this to be the case because the scruff of his five o'clock shadow tickles the spot behind my ear. I have several layers of goosebumps, thanks to him.

When he wraps his arms loosely around my waist, I suddenly remember how to speak. "Ewar," I gasp.

"Shh."

"But-"

"Sleep, Bella."

I gulp and stay absolutely still. The logical part of my brain says he isn't trying to find a way into my pants. This extreme level of intimacy is for survival purposes only. And honestly, combining our body heat was a smart move on his part. Yeah, but try telling that to my frazzled nerves. There's a big hunk of man pressed up against me, and my entire body is very much aware. I haven't cuddled with anyone in... Well, ever. How should I sit? Where do I put my hands? Is that his tool pouch poking into my spine or is it something else?

So many questions.

Believe it or not, his survival tactic gradually works its magic. The chill leaves my bones. I relax and lean back into him a little more. He fell asleep quickly. His steady, deep breaths are a lullaby, rocking me gently. My eyelids get progressively heavier. My head falls back on his shoulder. I finally let go.

An indeterminate amount of time later, light pierces through my dreams. I sit up and look around. We survived the night! Belatedly, I notice I'm not quite as comfy as I was before.

My body pillow... No, I mean, Ewar is gone.

I fling off the blankets and peek through the tent's door. Everything is covered in white powder. The wind has died down to a whisper, cold but not unbearable. I brave the elements and crawl outside, searching for Ewar. He's nearby, messing around with his spear. The sound of my feet stomping through the knee-deep snow gets him to look up.

"Hullo," he says.

I suppress a smile. You can tell a true Englishman taught him that word. Alistair should be proud of his pupil.

"Hello," I reply.

He holds up a small leather pouch. "Take."

I shake it warily. Something sloshes around inside. My eyebrows jump. "Where did you find water?"

He scoops up a handful of snow, mimes stuffing it inside the pouch and slipping it underneath his clothes. "Water."

"Oh. You melted the snow... probably with your body heat. That was very smart of you." I point at his spear. "What are you doing with that?"

He scrunches his forehead in thought. After a brief pause, he draws a four-legged animal in the snow and stabs it with his spear. "Hurna," he grunts. Then he waits for the English translation.

"Hunt."

He flashes a small smile. "Hunt."

He goes back to sharpening his spear, which involves rubbing one type of rock against the point. Once it is done to his satisfaction, he puts away his tools.

"Bella. Stay."

"Stay? Like, stay here all by myself while you go hunt? I don't know..."

He wags his finger at me, like my father used to do when he was telling me to keep out of trouble. "Stay."

He strolls away, leaving me by the shelter. After he climbs the hillside, I stand on the tips of my toes to look over the top. I watch his progress through the snow until the rolling landscape blocks him from view. Where is going? How long will he be gone?

I plop down inside the mouth of the tent and pout. This is dumb. While he's off being a hero and saving us from starvation, I get to sit here and do absolutely nothing except wait for his return. What if some wild animal shows up while he's gone? I don't even have a weapon! What am I going to defend myself with? I doubt my smart-ass mouth will scare off a hungry bear.

Thinking of bears only adds fuel to the fire. Every little sound I hear is magnified by ten. My imagination is a dangerous thing. I conjure up sharp-toothed beasts on the prowl, catching me unawares. I would be dead before I could blink. Even worse, I get to thinking something might attack him while he's off hunting. I would never know. I would die a slow, painful death without his guidance. A quick death by a bear would be a blessing in comparison.

I shoot up into a standing position. Nope. Not gonna sit by myself anymore. Ewar is going to get a hunting buddy whether he likes it or not.

Although the snow is deep, I manage to walk through it without falling flat on my face. Yes, I consider this an accomplishment. Tracking him is easy. I know exactly where he went thanks to the footprints he left. The journey isn't excessively long. Twenty minutes tops. I find him crouched behind a snowdrift. A gathering of various herbivores is nearby. They dig through the snow with their hooves, searching for the grass underneath.

I get on my hands and knees and crawl over to Ewar so the animals won't see my approach. Either my panting breath or the shuffling of the snow alerts him that he has company. He whips around in immediate defense mode. It's honestly impressive. His eyes stretch open when he gets a good look at who he's pointing his spear at.

"Bella!" he hisses.

"Uh. Surprise?"

He presents me with a lovely scowl.

Explaining why I am here is impossible, so I only smile ruefully. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

He looks up at the sky and sighs. It looks like he's asking the Great Spirits how on earth he's going to deal with me for eight more months. What a great question. I'd love to know the answer to that one too.

There are only two options available for him. A) Waste time taking me back to our shelter and then walk all the back here again - which runs the risk of being spotted by his potential prey. Or, B) Let me stay and watch him hunt.

Option B is the obvious winner.

He silently orders me to sit off to the side, out of his way. I do so in muted excitement. "So, Ewar, how did you know where to find-"

He holds a finger to his lips. "Shh!"

"Oh, right. You're hunting. I'll shut up now."

He focuses once again on the gathering of animals. One in particular captures his interest. It has wandered off by itself, too distracted in grazing to notice anything amiss. Carefully, Ewar creeps forward. He stays low to the ground as he prepares to crest the snowdrift. His grip tightens around the weapon. It looks like he's getting ready to send his spear flying.

With a gasp, I catch him by the ankle. The snow acts as a playground slide. I yank his ass back to where he started.

My face hovers over where he lays spreadeagle on the ground. "What are you doing?! You can't kill a horse."

I glance at the animal. The coat is ruddy red and the body is stocky. Its mane is short, similar to a zebra's. It may not be as handsome as the domesticated ones I'm familiar with, but this creature is undoubtedly in the horse family. Killing it would be abhorrent as turning Secretariat into a tube of glue right after he won the Triple Crown.

My rambling only confused Ewar. I aim a finger at the stallion and speak using simpler words. "Horse."

"Horse," Ewar repeats.

"Yes! Horse. No hunt."

His expression turns incredulous. "No hunt?"

"That's right. No hunt. No eat horse."

He already knows the word eat thanks to Alistair. Now he looks really lost. "No eat horse? Bella eat."

"Huh?"

He pokes a finger into my belly. "Bella eat horse."

It takes a minute for the information to click with me. My eyes narrow. "Hold on. Are you saying you guys fed me horse before?"

He gives a sheepish nod/total body shrug. I suppose that's a definite yes.

My head falls into my hands. "Ugh. I think I'm going to be sick. I cannot believe I ate a fucking horse! Thank goodness I'm not a member of the My Little Pony Fan Club anymore. I'd be kicked out for sure." I inhale and exhale. Feeling slightly better, I conclude this could be a teachable moment for my caveman friend. I look him straight in the eyes. "Ewar, we're not supposed to eat horses. They're too special; too... beautiful to eat. So, no more horse. Got it?"

His puzzled expression says he does not understand. In his world, all animals are probably considered edible. I suppose it's time to simplify my ethics lesson.

I look up at the big blue sky and sigh dramatically. "Ah! Beautiful." I pull out the comb from my hair and admire it. "Beautiful." Lastly, I look toward the horse grazing nearby. "Beautiful. No eat."

The light bulb switches on inside his head. His pensive gaze softens. "Beautiful. No eat."

Smiling, I release the breath I was holding. He probably doesn't understand my objection completely. But as long as he agrees not to feed horse meat to me, I'm fine with it.

He takes another look at the gathering of animals. A few bison are roaming around. I'm not sure if they're some of the same assholes who destroyed our stuff, though. There are also elk and two wooly rhinos, but they're much too far away. Except for a few of the horses, most of the animals are too large for one man to safely take down.

Ewar motions with his head that we should leave. We scurry, sight unseen, away from the grazing animals. Once we're at a safe distance, we stand up and contemplate our next move. Eventually, he holds his finger to his lips as a reminder. I nod and follow quietly in his footsteps. He monitors our surroundings and checks the snow. We wander for so long my legs start to ache. Suddenly, he points at the ground.

"Suwais."

Even my untrained eyes can see that the snow has been disturbed in this area. A long, shallow trench stretches into the distance. We follow it like Hansel and Gretel with their breadcrumbs. The trench ends at a burrow dug in the snow. Little three-toed prints are stamped near the hole.

Ewar points at me and then mimes digging. "Vinga," he whispers.

I worry on my bottom lip. He's asking for me to dig. There better not be a wolverine hiding down there or I'm gonna be ticked off big time.

My hands act as shovels, slinging snow right and left. He stands over me with the spear in striking position. There's a sharp squawk. A bundle of white-speckled feathers zooms out of what's left of the burrow. The death blow is quick. Judging by the feathers on the feet and squat body, I'm guessing this is some sort of ptarmigan.

Ewar holds up the kill by its neck. "Beautiful?" I think it's his way of asking if I'm ok with eating the bird.

I hold back my amusement. "Yes, beautiful... but we're eating it anyway. Come on."

The trek back to our shelter is a long one. He builds a fire upon our return. While I warm up my hands, he plucks the feathers and sets the carcass over the flames. The scent of it cooking makes my stomach rumble. Dinner is roast ptarmigan plus all the melted snow we want. I donate all the bird's organs I was allotted to Ewar. If he wants to eat the heart and whatever the hell this yellow thing is, be my guest. And he does. Waste not, want not must be his personal motto.

We use the snow to store our leftovers. Evening comes along before we know it. The fire won't last but for another half hour, and it's still too cold to be outside all night long.

Ewar and I will have to share the tent again.

I go to the spot in the very back, just as I did yesterday during the blizzard. He goes to sit in the very front. By the lingering light of the fire, I can still see him somewhat. He's staring at me. Over time, his gaze becomes strangely intense. I'm not sure where to look. All of a sudden, he's on the move. He crawls across the tiny space, eyes locked on my face. He looks like a beast on the prowl.

I sit up straight. What's he planning to do? He can't seriously consider sleeping with me again. Yeah, it's cold - but not enough that we need each other's body heat to survive!

Then again, I remember how it felt to be deliciously warm and protected while the storm raged on last night. It's been ages since I've slept so well. Would it really be a crime if I allowed it to happen again?

Before I can think of a decision, he comes to a stop. Closer and closer, he leans until we're eye to eye. My lungs forget how to function. I get lost in his steady gaze. Somehow, I keep track of his roaming hands. They found the top of my blanket. Slowly, he works it down until the blanket is on my lap. My upper torso is exposed to the chilly air. I barely notice. A finger lightly caresses the skin above the neckline of my tunic.

How can something cold to the touch leave behind a trail of heat?

I swallow. The spell breaks. One corner of his mouth lifts, giving his eyes a playful gleam. The unexpected happens. He grabs hold of the makeshift scarf around my neck and moves it until the lower half of my face is covered. I must have forgotten to pull it up before going to bed. With careful precision, my blanket is put back to exactly how it had been prior to him coming over to visit.

Then, with an air of nonchalance, he returns to his spot by the entryway, leaving me all alone.

I stare slack-jawed while he gets nice and settled way over there. After a short time, he looks in my direction again. Yes, I'm still watching because, what the hell was that all about? I thought we were going to keep each other warm!

He closes his eyes. That annoying smirk makes me want to slap it off his face. He's stretched out on the floor of the tent and lightly snoring in no time. Yet I'm left wide awake, vacillating between confusion and frustration. I yank the blanket up to my chin in hopes of warding off the cold.

I fucking hate the winter.

00000000000000000000

A/N- Sorry Jacob fans. I reworked the infamous tent scene from Eclipse to fit this story. I have no regrets.

Fun (or maybe not so fun) fact: Not only was the horse one of the primary sources of meat for the people of the Stone Age, they were also a great favorite of ancient artists. Pictographs and petroglyphs of the horse have been found in caves all across the Old World. I suppose you could say cavemen considered horses to be edible art.

This summer has been horrible. The humidity is insane. For people who review, I'll try to send some of this Ice Age weather to help cool you off. (Ewar will, of course, come as well. He'll be there to manage your internal temperature.)

Thanks for reading. :-)