Someone kept this place clean.
Still on a mission for water, he checked the taps. Nothing. He tried the interior doors, jiggling the handles. One opened onto a set of steep wooden stairs, descending into the pitch black. Navigating them with his awkward crutch was a last resort. If he struck out on the main floor, he’d try down there next.
While he hesitated, another cat, this one striped, scuttled through the kitchen, appearing as if by magic. It headed for the far side of the room carrying a fat mouse in its mouth. With only a furtive glance in his direction, the cat disappeared through another cat door on the far left. Cam hobbled, following. In the poor light, what he’d taken for a dark wall was a thick green comforter covering the wall beneath. Insulation?
With shaking hands, he swung the green quilt aside. A door, with another cat door at the bottom. Heart hammering, he stood in front of the entrance and tried the knob. Locked. Someone could be on the other side right now. Intuition told him he’d found someone’s home. Cam held his breath and then let it out as he knocked.
Chapter 8: Lissa
Lissa woke from a sound sleep with a sudden jolt. Something had woken her, something out of place. She yawned, sitting up in bed, letting her eyes adjust to the near dark of her room. Her fire had burned down to the dull glow of embers, allowing her to see, but few details emerged. She tilted her head, listening. Outside, the wind still raged, a dull background whine. Perhaps a gust had thrown something hard against the house. Was it worth getting up to investigate?
Mira sat at the end of the bed, the orange glint of her eyes fixed on the entrance. Unsettled by her cat’s unusual behavior, Lissa’s heart rate spiked.
Someone or something might be near the house.
Judging by her low fire and the cool temperature inside, it was somewhere during the wee hours of the morning. Maybe almost dawn. Not that daylight was a factor during a blizzard. A crunching sound came from the corner by the hearth. Lissa squinted, making out the shape of Luna eating. That shouldn’t have been enough to wake Lissa from a dead sleep. Mira looked beyond the other cat’s meal, toward the entrance.
Without making a sound, Lissa grabbed her robe from beside the bed and slipped it on. She thrust her feet into a thick pair of socks before swinging her feet onto the chilly floor.
She’d taken only three steps when someone knocked on the door from the kitchen.
She froze, unable to breathe. Instead of lighting her lantern or a candle, she grabbed the loaded shotgun propped in the corner. Her hands shook, and her heart drummed hard enough against her ribs that she was afraid the intruder would hear. Trickles of sweat rolled down her sides.
“Hello,” a deep male voice called out. Another knock sounded. “Anyone. Please.”
It was the man from the forest. Though she’d only heard his voice once, she was certain of her guest’s identity. She bit her lip. He’d looked like someone decent, though manners and character were impossible to determine from a distance, and in their brief interaction he was gruff.
Tip-toeing closer, holding her gun with one hand, she fumbled for a light, knocking a candle over with a thud. She winced as it popped loose from the wax in the holder and rolled off the table—with a louder thunk. Dammit. She closed her eyes, twitching at every sound as the candle bounced and rolled several feet across the floor. She sucked in a breath, tears pricking behind her eyes. Way to be stealthy.
The next thump on the door was louder. “I hear someone in there,” said the voice. “I don’t intend any harm. Please.” His second “please” caught at her heart. He sounded sincere.
She bent, grabbed her candle, and held the base near the embers, softening the wax. She stuffed it into the holder, then held the wick to the banked fire. The yellow flame rose, chasing away the shadows. Setting her gun down, she tossed another chunk of wood onto the banked fire while she considered her options. Orange licked along its edge, the dry wood igniting at once.
With a deep breath, Lissa crossed to the door, scraping back both deadbolts she’d installed. She stepped back, retrieving hershotgun from the table. She wiped her damp palms and, trying to infuse confidence into her voice, she said, “It’s unlocked now. Come in with your hands up.”
The door swung open with a draft of cold air, and Luna disappeared into the corner, sidling out of the way.
Lissa kept her gaze riveted on the opening. The man hop-shuffled forward, one hand in the air holding a candle lantern. He hunched to the side over a forked branch. The foot nearest the homemade crutch hung behind, wrapped, and without a boot. His dark brown hair stuck up on one side and was flat on the other, like he’d just rolled out of bed. His bearded face seemed hollow compared to a few days ago, while his lips were cracked and dry.
“It’s you.” He swayed in the opening, and his wooden crutch thumped to the floor as he raised his second hand over his head. “I hoped I might find you.” His voice rasped.
“You need help.” She kept her tone even. Her eyes flicked over his face, searching for danger signs or clues about what happened next.
The tightness around his eyes suggested he was in pain, as did the creases surrounding his mouth, but he didn’t move—remaining balanced on one foot, hands in the air. Though he must be about six feet tall, he wasn’t huge. He was of medium height and build. In the sunlight, his hair had glinted with copper, here it looked brown. His most identifiable feature were his gray-green eyes, which just appeared gray in the poor light.
“Fucked my ankle on the first day of the storm.” His curse was a growl.
“Not a great time to be staying in a tent. Were you holed up in the fort?” She couldn’t imagine he’d made it all that way today in a blizzard. Especially not on one leg.
He shook his head. “I’ve been staying in the other side of your house.”
“How did you find me?” She clutched the shotgun tighter, still pointing the business end in his direction.
His gaze flicked to her sweaty hands. “I promise I’m not a threat. I won’t hurt you. Do you have water you can spare? Please?”
Even injured, he didn’t seem harmless, more like a cougar waiting to spring. But his pain and his explanation seemed genuine.
His gaze never left hers. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”
