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I give a silent prayer, thanking the animal for its life. I’m not sure I really believe any of that stuff, but those who taught me were adamant about it, ingraining the spirituality of the hunt into my mind. When it gets colder, I’ll drink the blood. The indigenous people swear by it, and I do feel energized when I drink it, but I wonder how much of that is psychosomatic.
Covering the carcass with a bear skin to keep some of the predators away, I head off to retrieve the Jeep. If I had help, I could prepare the carcass here. It would be neater, but I’m on my own, and I have to get back to my cabin to clean it.
Once the caribou is strapped to the hood of the Jeep, I start back towards the dirt road and the lake near my cabin. I go slowly over the rough terrain, watching carefully to avoid any obstacles ahead of me. The carcass shifts as I hit a bump, partially obscuring my view. I roll down the window and stick my head out a bit to see better. The temperature is dropping rapidly, but I’m almost home, so I won’t be cold for long.
As I get to the dirt road, I see a dark shape off to one side, nestled in a group of boulders near the lake. I’ve studied the landscape around here so intimatel
y, I know whatever it is wasn’t there before.
As I pull up closer, the shape moves slightly.
I stop the Jeep and grip my hunting knife in my right hand before I get out. I’m pretty sure it’s not an animal, but I don’t know what it is, and it’s always better to be careful. I walk up silently until I can get a better look at it.
It’s a person.
Not just any person but the woman I saw at Broken Toy’s the day before. She’s huddled up in a ball against the rocks, still not dressed properly for the climate, and half frozen.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask as I approach, knife still in hand. I haven’t forgotten how she wigged out on me when I wouldn’t listen to her autobiography.
She looks up, and I’m met with her bright green eyes. Her hair is flapping around in the wind, smacking her in the face, but I can still see the tears in her eyes.
“They left me,” she says softly. Her voice shakes as she shivers violently.
“You’re going to freeze out here.” I reach down and offer her my hand. “Who left you?”
She stares at my hand for a long moment before reaching out tentatively. She lets me help her up, then wraps her arms around herself as the brunt of the wind, previously blocked by the rocks, hits the rest of her body.
She looks to the west at the road leading to Whatì.
“Are you staying in Whatì?” I ask. “I can take you back there.”
“No.” She doesn’t offer any other explanation as she sways unsteadily.
I grab her arm just as she’s about to fall, and the next thing I know, I’m holding an unconscious, freezing woman in my arms.
Chapter 4
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
I carry the unconscious woman inside my cabin. I can’t even remember what she said her name is, but here I am, bringing her into my home where I haven’t had company since the first winter I was here.
I’m concerned about my kill. Leaving it on the Jeep is a bad plan—a bear will surely smell it and pay me a visit. A lot of the bears will already be in the hibernation dens, but some are certainly still out and about. If not a bear, then some other carnivore or carrion eater. It won’t last long, even with night approaching, and I don’t want to lose the meat.
Maybe it’s shitty to be more concerned about the caribou meat than I am about the human woman. I don’t care. Thawing out this woman had not been on my agenda for the evening.
Now that I have her inside, I have no idea what to do with her. Her clothing is wet, and I need to get her out of it, but I don’t know where to put her. I don’t want to lay her on my bed – she would just get the blanket wet.
With no other options, I squat down and lay her as gently as I can on the rug. Solo comes up immediately, meowing loudly.
“I know you’re hungry,” I say. “I gotta deal with this first.”
Solo is not impressed with my reason for delaying and continues to whine.
“Hey, can you hear me?” I yell at her a couple of times but get no response. After a bit of hesitation, I slap her face lightly, but she still doesn’t move. If I had some smelling salts, they probably would have worked, but I live on my own and never had need of them before.
I need to get her warm, which means getting her dry. I start undressing the woman, all the while trying to figure out what I’m going to say to her if she wakes up and finds me taking her clothes off. I don’t want her to panic, but I have to get the wet clothes away from her skin. It’s much warmer inside the cabin, but the warmth won’t be enough if she’s getting close to hypothermic, and I can’t check her for frostbite while her socks are on.
She remains unconscious as I strip her down to her bra and underwear. Pushing the wet garments to the side, I dry her skin carefully with a towel as I check for any grey flesh. She doesn’t have any signs of frostbite, so I finish drying her and crouch down to pick her up.
