may i stand unshaken [Arthur Morgan × OC]

Chapter 3

The fire crackled softly. I opened my eyes a little from the light penetrating through my eyelids. The sky overhead has acquired a pure blue hue. The snow glistened in the sunlight. The trees, covered with frost, stood motionless. Muffled voices could be heard somewhere in the distance. Lifted my head and squinted. It turned out that I had fallen on my side, wrapped in blankets with my head, and just like that I fell asleep under the canopy of someone's tent. Curled up, a dog was sleeping next to me, warming me with its warmth, but when I began to move my numb limbs, he raised his head, pricking up ears. I carefully took a sitting position and stretched my whole body. Patted the dog on the head with caution, but he only smeared his hand with his tongue in response.

Laying my tangled hair with my palms, rubbed sleepy eyes and involuntarily looked around. There was an open chest with neatly folded men's clothes, a stack of various books on top, and a closed bag with things next to it. On the other side, apparently hidden, were weapons: a shotgun and a rifle. I frowned, remembering how my father tried to teach me to shoot and how I was hysterical, not wanting to feel this heaviness in my hands and the cold of metal.

Shaking my head, I wrapped myself more tightly in blankets, considering such a close inspection of someone's modest home indecent, and carefully got on my feet, which, as it turned out, were still without shoes.

– Hey! – I turned my head when I heard a woman's voice. – Come on, sit back down.

I stared uncomprehendingly to this approaching woman with a slightly frighteningly strict look and, obeying under a heavy gaze, fell back.

– You froze all your feet off last night, dear, – she said, sitting down opposite me, grabbing my feet with rough fingers and pulling off my socks. – Not blackened, so it won't fall off.

I gave a strangled grunt in response, surprised at her directness. She was looking at me, her dark gray eyes slightly narrowed. The dress and blouse hugged her large forms, a multicolored scarf was thrown around her neck.

– I'll give you other clothes, – the woman said, straightening up.

– Why? – I asked without thinking.

– Did you see yourself? – she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, looking like I was the slowest person in the world at the moment.

– Yeah, – I muttered softly, staring at the bloody skirt and hands. – Sorry.

– Did you stab someone for the first time? – the dark-haired woman asked, scrutinizing me with some kind of sympathetic gaze, and I nodded weakly in response. – Don't worry, you won't feel as lousy as you do now. But this it depends on how much strength there is in a person.

Then I didn't really understand what exactly she meant.

I awkwardly lowered my eyes to my hands, noticing the darkened spots of dried blood, due to which the skin acquired some kind of orange hue.

– Here, – the woman put a stack of clothes and shoes next to it. – Maybe it will be a little big. John is the smallest here, so his old clothes may well fit. Change your clothes.

– Thank you, – I nodded belatedly and looked at her. – Excuse me, but what's your name?

– Susan, – she replied, continuing to look at me with such eyes that I felt uncomfortable. – Or miss Grimshaw. As you wish.

She stepped aside, and I began to look at the clothes she had given me. Black frayed trousers and a shirt of the same color. Looking around to realize that there was no one nearby, began to carefully change clothes. The pants turned out to be long, so I had to tuck them up. The shirt was a little loose, but it was quite appropriate. Miss Grimshaw returned with a pair of brown boots that belonged to her and I tucked the edges of her trousers into them. Then the woman handed me a beige coat, which was also a little too big for me. Susan appraised me from head to toe, as I got up from the ground, and chuckled contentedly.