12
SHILOH
Once I’d finished eating (another excellent meal prepared by Rivven), helping with the dishes, and getting ready for the day, I met him outside. While I’d been getting dressed and putting my hair in a braided bun, he was getting started on a few of his early chores.
“You’re not wearing a jacket?” I asked, taken aback by his shirtlessness. It was overcast today, and definitely cold. I slipped my comms tablet out to check the temp reading. It was currently negative twelve degrees Celsius.
“No. I do not even think I have one,” Rivven. “Will yours suffice?”
“It should be fine,” I said, glancing down at myself and my old winter coat. “It got pretty cold on Terratribe I as well. Though we never got snow like this in New Toronto.”
I was a bit more worried about how my boots would hold up than my jacket. Tasha had also brought me a spare pair of gloves, as well as a fluffy pair of earmuffs that I was currently wearing now. She’d said that we could order in new winter boots for me, or that they could be made on-world by one of the guys. But that obviously hadn’t happened yet.
Fortunately, paths had been shovelled all over the place, so there would be no trudging through hip-deep snow for me. I had no doubt that Rivven would be able to forge a path through dense snow this high, with his height and the walloping muscles of his legs. But I’d probably get stranded and freeze one step in.
As we left the main building from the side door that led to the outhouse, Rivven offered me his right arm. Just like he’d done that first morning on the stairs.
“In case it’s slippery,” he said.
I didn’t hesitate this time. And this time, I didn’t just place my hand on top.
I slipped my arm completely through his, so that we were linked.
“Thanks,” I said.
Now that I was closer, I could see why he didn’t seem to need a shirt. Heat positively poured off of the man, radiating towards me, penetrating my glove and sleeve. It took a lot of will power not to snuggle closer.
Apparently, I hadn’t possessed that will power last night. I certainly hadn’t meant to sleep beside him.
But then again, I didn’t seem to have tried very hard to avoid it, either.
As we walked along the narrow, shovelled path, the remaining snow made delightful, clumpy-crunch sounds beneath our booths. Somehow, even the grey sky today felt bright and open compared to the one I’d left behind in New Toronto. And I was grateful for some cloud cover. I didn’t have sunglasses, and I wasn’t sure how I’d handle bright sun glancing off snow all morning right after getting over that migraine.
“I wonder if it will snow more,” I said, my eyes scanning the heavy clouds.
Rivven looked up, appearing to do the same.
“Perhaps,” he said cheerfully, as if looking forward to this prospect. Which made very little sense to me. Wouldn’t that mean a lot more work and shovelling for him to do?
Maybe he just appreciated the beauty of it. The aesthetic appeal was something I could not deny. The snow rolled and stretched into the distance like someone had unrolled a carpet of sugar-dusted marshmallow across the landscape. We were behind the building now, and I could see the remnants of an old wooden shed of some sort, snow drifting up around its sides.
“That is where Warden Tenn sustained his injury,” Rivven said, gesturing at it with the long, blue line of his tail. “I have taken down most of the rest of the roof. But for safety’s sake, I would ask you do not enter the remains of the structure.”
“I promise,” I said. I wouldn’t even be able to get over to it right now, anyway. Unlike other structures on the property, this one had no path shovelled to it.
Tasha’s words returned to me then.
I’ll never forget the sight of Rivven, down on one knee in the mud, doing everything he could to get that beam off of the person I loved. Not ’til the day I die.
Being out here, actually seeing it with Rivven at my side, made me feel a little teary. The shed looked entirely benign now, nothing but old wood half-propped up by the snow. It made more words come back to me then. Rivven’s. About how there was goodness and badness in everything, and it all hinged on the proportion between them.
The shed’s roof had collapsed. It had nearly killed someone.
But that someone had survived. And maybe the remaining walls of the shed could still do other things. Better things. Like give shelter to a small animal or insects.
The first intact building we visited wasn’t too far from the saloon. It was a little log cabin-looking thing. Like a tiny house unto itself.
“These are my eggbirds,” he told me, swinging open the door to what I could now see was a coop for domesticated birds.
