Red Harvest's Winter

Her Name

She flinched slightly when I spoke, but she made no move to speak back. I walked slightly closer to her, reaching for the now muddy rag. Her hand was shaking when she held it out for me, and as I took it, our fingers brushed. She was very cold. That is when I remembered that she was still in only her torn nightgown. I took off my own light coat and offered it to her. When she didn't accept it, I squatted directly in front of her and draped it around her shoulders.

"Name," I uttered again, this time she met my eyes.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. Daddy says," she mumbles, looking away. Even though she did mumble, I could pick up on a strange accent that I was unfamiliar with. Her voice was light and it seemed to float on the air. I stood when I realized that she wasn't going to say more.

Walking over to my horse, I picked up my bow off of the snow covered ground, and slung it across my shoulder. I began untying him from a sturdy tree.

"Where are you off to?" She shouted from her spot on the log. I looked back to see her staring at me, clutching my coat around her shoulders.

"Hunting,"

"Well you can't just leave me here alone," I picked up on a hint of terror in her voice as she spoke. I walked over to her and wrapped my left arm around her waist as I pulled her up and brought her closer to my horse.

"You're coming," She nodded as I helped her up and took my position behind her once more. I hit my foot on the side of my horse and we began walking forward into the small woods surrounding us.

"What's your name?" I looked down  when she said it to see her looking up at me, and I smirked slightly. I chose not to respond.

"Oh I get it, just because I didn't tell you my name, you won't tell me yours," I only nodded.

"I'm Annabeth. Annabeth Winters," she stated grabbing my left hand, that was resting on her hip, and shaking it with her own left.

"Red Harvest," I said. Annabeth. It isn't what I expected. Most white women I had ran into had a more common names, Emma being the main one. I liked Annabeth though, it fit her somehow.

"What type of red skin are you? We have a lot of Cherokees around these parts, are you one of them?" I chuckled at her question, all of a sudden she was talking like her life depended on it, when only a few minutes earlier she refused to speak a work.

"Comanche,"

"You must be far from home. Haven't heard of any Comanches around here. There were a lot near where we originally settled, though. Daddy said they drove us out of there though," She uttered the last part under her breath.

"Where are you from," I said.

"Originally?" I only nodded.

"Daddy, Mommy, John, and I, and almost our whole town, came all the way across the sea from Ireland," That's why I didn't recognize that accent, "We made the trip when I was eight, moved up here from our old settlement when I was fourteen, five years later, here I am," She shifted in my grip while talking, looking around at the trees around us. I stopped my horse and got off, she went to get off as well, but I stopped her before she could.

"Stay," 

"I'm not a dog," I smirked up at her. She had her arms crossed and her eyebrows furrowed. I took my bow off my back, and began looking for animal tracks, the snow should make it easy.

"How old are you, Red?" She questioned, breaking the silence. I had to think about it, I hadn't really been keeping track of time.

"What is today?"

"Well... assuming I was only out for one night, today would be January twentieth," Without looking away from the tracks I had just found, I responded.

"Nineteen," I mumbled. I can't believe that it has already been two years since I left... My right hand goes to draw an arrow as I finally set my eyes on the deer. I notch the arrow and pull it back. The deer looks at me right as I release it. The deer drops.