Fire and Liberty

Chapter Three

You breathed deep and your lungs filled with the smoky aroma of smoldering wood, the tart tang of blood, the crisp green of the coniferous trees. The fire had provided ample warmth during the night but it was only hissing ashes now in the early morning dawn. The chill settled over your motionless form, seeping past leather and fur to the skin below.

You watched Ratonhnhaké:ton's breathing, his chest moving like the ebb and flow of the tide, a mesmerizing sight if you allowed your eyes to linger a moment longer. You tried to lean forward, to force yourself onto your feet, but your muscles were knotted and rigid, barely allowing you to sit up straight. You stifled back a low groan, feeling it swell inside of your throat as you fell to your side. Your elbow sunk into the damp earth, keeping you from falling the rest of the way.

His voice was perhaps even more dry and bitter than you'd ever heard it before, "You are not very smart."

You didn't dare speak. There was too much pain blooming across your torso, clawing up your chest to your throat. You gritted your teeth and forced yourself back against the tree, all the while as the youth watched with mild disbelief. You weren't even sure if your breathing was normal but your mind couldn't care less. You didn't want to show weakness in front of a stranger.

He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "If you no longer need my help, I shall be on my way. I have pelts to sell."

You watched him stand and gather his things together, the meat he had cut last night and the bones he had salvaged. The furs were hanging over branches across the otherside of the campfire, a mixed assortment of soft browns and blacks.

Your stomach clenched and your mouth watered with sour distaste. You resisted for as long as you could, feeling the heat of bile bite the back of your throat, but it happened all the same. You lunged to the side just as the hot contents of your stomach spilled onto the ground. Your palms pressed flat against the cold, damp earth. You sucked down a breath of air, a pathetic sob that tasted rancid and sour.

He gave a growl of annoyance and tossed all of his things at his feet. "I told you that you were too weak to be on your own."

"No!" You raised your hand at him as you gathered what little dignity you had left. "I don't need your help."

Ratonhnhaké:ton rolled his eyes, tossing his shaking head out towards the woodlands. He couldn't believe how stubborn you were being. He couldn't possibly understand your need to be self sufficient. He gathered all of his things onto his shoulders and back, securing them in place, before marching forward.

"I said I don't need your help. Leave me." You took down a shuddering breath as he reached down and roughly gathered you into his arms. He threw your legs over one arm and hoisted your upper body with the other. "Stupid," you muttered, pressing your head into the warmth of his chest.

He huffed, jostling your weight as best he could while sauntering across the snowy landscape. "You are the one who is dying. Not me."

You couldn't help but breathe the subtle notes of his scent, the musk of a mossy woodland and the sharp richness of cedar. You couldn't stop yourself from enjoying the warmth that he provided or the smooth skin of his neck beneath your fingers as you held on to him. God, you understood that nameless and unfamiliar feeling that arose last night. It was the slight and lingering touches of lust, perhaps admiration for a man who would go through such trouble just to keep a stranger alive.

You glowered at the passing trees, the rhythmic beat of his steps in time with their passing. "I can walk from here."

His words were harsh, still touched with resentment, "Do not talk or I will drop you."