Lost To The Wild

Panic

My life didn't actually change that much with the man's arrival. I still went about my daily routine, only now I had an extra mouth to feed.

Soon after I brought him back with me he caught a fever, thrashing endlessly in his sleep, and muttering incoherent words. I cleaned his wounds, and managed to make him swallow a bit of broth each day, but it was only enough to keep him alive.

I had to keep the fire roaring day and night too, so I spent most of my days gathering wood and hunting game. I left in the early afternoons, then returned in the late evenings. Each time he remained in the same spot I'd left him. Every day I kept thinking that he would wake up, but after a week I was beginning to wonder what would happen if he didn't.

I pondered this as I walked through the snow, a bundle of fire wood strapped to my back, and a couple grouse on my belt. I left early that morning to get some time away from the man on my living room floor. Each time I looked at him a ball of stress would twist in my gut, and send my thoughts into an abysmal spiral. A sharp wind hits my side and a shudder runs through my body.

What if he dies?

I have no communications with the outside world and only have deliveries made every few months. I planned to just wait until Tom came with his next batch of supplies, then send the strange man back to town with him, but if he dies...

How would I explain a dead body to Tom. Should I just bury the body in the woods? 

No, that would be disrespectful. He must have family out there somewhere that would want a proper funeral for him. I freeze for a moment and my heart clenches at the thought.

There are people out there waiting for him to come home, and if he dies, it would be my fault.

Before a tear escapes my eye I push the thought to the back of my mind and approach the cabin. I clumsily drop the wood by the door. Letting it clatter to the ground, I roll my shoulders trying to ease the knots that have formed up and down my spine. I try stretching out my sore muscles as I open the door, kicking off my boots, and throwing my coat and the grouse lazily to the ground.

I walk sleepily across the room and stand in front of the fire, my hands reaching out for warmth. I close my eyes and let my head hang low.

I stand there a few moments, relaxing in the comfort of my home, but a small strange feeling nudges at my mind. Am I forgetting something?

My head snaps up and eyes fly open.

The man!

I turn and search the floor, but there is only an empty pile of blankets. He is nowhere to be seen. Just as the realization hits me so does something else, knocking me down and holding me to the ground.

In a panic I push and shove trying to get him off of me, my nails clawing at his face.

"WHO ARE YOU!" He yells at me, his eyes blazing with rage. I struggle beneath him, caught between his body and the hardwood floor. 

I can't believe I actually saved this lunatic!

With a grunt I wedge my knee in between his legs and jerk upwards. He lets out a pained curse and rolls off of me.

Without hesitation I jump up, running straight for the door. I grab the handle and pull with a sharp twist. A rush of air grazes my face as heavy hand flies by me and slams into the door, cutting off my only escape.

I turn to fight my attacker but a strong hand whips to my throat, squeezing, and cutting off my oxygen.

"WHO ARE YOU!" He yells again his eyes turning black. I try to pry his grip, but to no avail.