quickly began to devour the logs. The Indian broke the ice covering the top of one of the buckets and poured the water into an empty kettle. He removed the kettle of broth from the hook and set it near the fire, placed the kettle of water on the hook and swung it directly over the blaze.
When everything was to his satisfaction, he stood and limped to the open door. He walked into the snow, disappearing around the side of the cabin, returning quickly with a heavy fur slung over his shoulders. In one hand he carried some frozen raw meat; the other held a wrapped bundle.
Without looking at Linsey, he set the package on the table and began cutting chunks of meat off the bones, adding them to the pot of water. He opened a pouch at his waist and removed several small bags.
The Indian set another pot of water in the now glowing coals and added what looked like dried leaves from some of the bags to it.
Linsey took advantage of his turned back and moved quietly over to the wall. She reached for the knife above her head and tried pulling, twisting and turning it, but it was sunk so deeply into the log that she could not budge it. She leaned her head against the rough wood, her hand clutching the knife hilt, despair running rampant through her slender body. Turning, she slowly slid down the wall, sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs. She knew that the true test of her strength would begin soon.
At least she would be warm when she died, she thought apathetically. Maybe he’d even feed her first. Her stomach did not seem aware of the danger facing the rest of her as it growled in protest of the delicious smells beginning to float through the cabin.
The Indian glanced in her direction, and seeing that she presented no danger, he walked once more to the bed where Bear lay delirious, innocent of the danger surrounding him. The Indian removed his knife, and Linsey stifled a scream as she watched it descend.
A tearing sound filled the hushed silence, and Linsey’s eyes widened when she saw the Indian’s hand come back up — holding what remained of Bear’s pants. He quickly dropped them onto the floor and kicked them out of his way.
Growing more mystified by the minute, Linsey watched as he walked to the fire and returned to the bed, carrying the small pot of steaming water with him. He set it near the bed, shifting Bear until the steam drifted into his face. Pouring some of the liquid into a cup, he lifted Bear’s head, forcing him to drink. She realized that they were speaking when she heard the rumble of Bear’s deep voice.
When he decided Bear had drunk enough, the Indian slowly lowered him back to the bed. She watched as he ran his hands searchingly over Bear’s body. Satisfied that there was no hidden damage, he covered the shivering man with all of the blankets and furs on the bed. When Bear attempted to throw off the coverings, the Indian raised his voice and spoke harshly.
From her corner, Linsey realized that the cabin was growing increasingly warmer. Dressed in pants and breechcloth, the Indian’s copper skin glistened with a light covering of perspiration. Linsey wiped her hand across her forehead and found that it, too, was wet.
Bear no longer seemed in life-threatening danger; in fact, the Indian seemed to be trying to help him. Lowering her head to her knees, Linsey waited with resignation for whatever was to come. When moccasin covered feet entered her line of vision, she lifted her head, startled to find a bowl being held out to her. With a grunt, the Indian pushed it toward her.
Feeling light-headed from fear and hunger, Linsey accepted the bowl. Not waiting for the steaming food to cool, she burnt her fingers in her haste to eat. It was simply meat and broth, but she swore she had never tasted anything so good. Only as she was drinking the last of the broth did she stop to wonder if one of the ingredients he had added was poison.
With a shrug, Linsey decided it was too late to be concerned. She
When everything was to his satisfaction, he stood and limped to the open door. He walked into the snow, disappearing around the side of the cabin, returning quickly with a heavy fur slung over his shoulders. In one hand he carried some frozen raw meat; the other held a wrapped bundle.
Without looking at Linsey, he set the package on the table and began cutting chunks of meat off the bones, adding them to the pot of water. He opened a pouch at his waist and removed several small bags.
The Indian set another pot of water in the now glowing coals and added what looked like dried leaves from some of the bags to it.
Linsey took advantage of his turned back and moved quietly over to the wall. She reached for the knife above her head and tried pulling, twisting and turning it, but it was sunk so deeply into the log that she could not budge it. She leaned her head against the rough wood, her hand clutching the knife hilt, despair running rampant through her slender body. Turning, she slowly slid down the wall, sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs. She knew that the true test of her strength would begin soon.
At least she would be warm when she died, she thought apathetically. Maybe he’d even feed her first. Her stomach did not seem aware of the danger facing the rest of her as it growled in protest of the delicious smells beginning to float through the cabin.
The Indian glanced in her direction, and seeing that she presented no danger, he walked once more to the bed where Bear lay delirious, innocent of the danger surrounding him. The Indian removed his knife, and Linsey stifled a scream as she watched it descend.
A tearing sound filled the hushed silence, and Linsey’s eyes widened when she saw the Indian’s hand come back up — holding what remained of Bear’s pants. He quickly dropped them onto the floor and kicked them out of his way.
Growing more mystified by the minute, Linsey watched as he walked to the fire and returned to the bed, carrying the small pot of steaming water with him. He set it near the bed, shifting Bear until the steam drifted into his face. Pouring some of the liquid into a cup, he lifted Bear’s head, forcing him to drink. She realized that they were speaking when she heard the rumble of Bear’s deep voice.
When he decided Bear had drunk enough, the Indian slowly lowered him back to the bed. She watched as he ran his hands searchingly over Bear’s body. Satisfied that there was no hidden damage, he covered the shivering man with all of the blankets and furs on the bed. When Bear attempted to throw off the coverings, the Indian raised his voice and spoke harshly.
From her corner, Linsey realized that the cabin was growing increasingly warmer. Dressed in pants and breechcloth, the Indian’s copper skin glistened with a light covering of perspiration. Linsey wiped her hand across her forehead and found that it, too, was wet.
Bear no longer seemed in life-threatening danger; in fact, the Indian seemed to be trying to help him. Lowering her head to her knees, Linsey waited with resignation for whatever was to come. When moccasin covered feet entered her line of vision, she lifted her head, startled to find a bowl being held out to her. With a grunt, the Indian pushed it toward her.
Feeling light-headed from fear and hunger, Linsey accepted the bowl. Not waiting for the steaming food to cool, she burnt her fingers in her haste to eat. It was simply meat and broth, but she swore she had never tasted anything so good. Only as she was drinking the last of the broth did she stop to wonder if one of the ingredients he had added was poison.
With a shrug, Linsey decided it was too late to be concerned. She
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