Redemption (3 page)

He begins to grow restless as the forest falls into an eerie hush.
 
Even the woodland animals seem to have disappeared.
 
He knows the human must sense his presence too, otherwise they would have come out by now.
 

When the footfall finally lands again, he blows out a silent breath of relief, as he spies a hint of brown protruding unnaturally from the side of a tree less than ten feet behind him.
 
With the grace of a mountain lion, Gabriel spins and leaps.
 

A startled cry rings through his ears as he connects with the concealed figure, knocking them back into a snowdrift.
 
His shoulder slams into a buried tree root before he slumps to the ground.
 
A jagged crack forms along the equator of the aged trunk and with a mighty groan, the tree plummets to the ground.
 
Powdery snow rises in a cloud around the fallen tree.

Gabriel leaps back into a crouch as the hooded figure staggers to their feet.
 
He braces, preparing for the unexpected.
 

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“Huh?”
 
Blinking, Gabriel slowly rises as the person draped in heavy furs lowers their hood.
 

He stares in awe at the beautiful blonde standing before him.
 
Defiant but calm, she gazes back at him with large azure eyes rimmed by long lashes.
 
Her skin is the palest he has ever seen, almost blending in with the snow all around.
 
Gabriel glances at her pink lips, noting that they are slightly parted but still, not trembling from fear or the cold.
 

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Gabriel runs his hands though his snow dampened hair as he watches the girl.
 
She obviously knows these woods, where to step and how to travel with hardly a sound.
 
He is impressed with how well she snuck up on him, but this only makes him wary.
 
If she is here it means there may be more people about.

She’s just a girl, a human.
 
It’s not like she’s dangerous,
he tries to argue, but his trepidation remains.
 

“Who are you?” He asks, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

When she cocks her head to the side, her chin is lost in the folds of animal skins that drape over her shoulders.
 
The wind brutally whips her hair, but she hardly notices.
 
“You English?”

Her speech is broken, but Gabriel nods in understanding.
 
“Who are you?”

“My name Katia.
 
You?”
 
She pokes a sharpened stick toward his chest.

“Gabriel.”
 
He steps closer and watches as her eyes narrow, her stance stiffening.
 
Her lips press into a flat line, her jaw set as her fingers curl tightly around her stick.
 
Everything about her stiff stance screams experience and skill.
 
This girl knows how to take care of herself.
 
“Are you lost?”

She shakes her head.
 
A mass of blonde curls dances about her shoulders.
 
Her cheeks have grown rosy now that her face is unprotected by the furry hood.
 
She sizes him up, then lowers her stick and leans against it.

“There,” she says.
 
She raises a gloved hand to point toward the tree line at the bottom of the mountain.
 
Gabriel narrows his gaze, trying to spy out a building among the trees but he can’t find any trace of one.

“Are you alone?”
 

Katia’s gaze hardens as she raises her spear, ready to attack.
  
Her breath puffs rapidly past her lips, hanging in a fog before her.
 
He can hear her elevated heart rate and smell the rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins.
 
“I fighter.”

“No,” he holds his hands up to show he is unarmed.
 
He smiles awkwardly, struggling to find a way to reassure her.
 
“No fight.”

She shifts in the snow, her fur lined knee-high boots sinking a couple inches.
 
“You alone?”

Gabriel scowls and looks to the gray sky above.
 
Releasing an impatient snort, he nods. “Apparently.”

“You come.
 
Eat.”
 
She motions for him to follow her as she abruptly turns and heads back the way she came.
 

Gabriel frowns at this unexpected acceptance.
 
Is this some sort of a trap?
 

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he calls.

From nearly fifteen feet ahead she turns and stares pointedly at the sky.
  
“Storm come.
 
Very bad.”

“I’ll be fine.”
 
His voice is lost to the rising winds.
 
With a knowing smile, she turns and plunges down the slope of the mountain, skiing across the snow with impressive ease.
 
It’s obvious she has done that before.
 
Numerous times probably.
 
Gabriel grumbles under his breath, searching the blanket of clouds overhead once more before following her lead.

The mountain is steep, no doubt treacherous during the best conditions.
 
He marches behind Katia, amazed at her stamina and sure footing, despite the rapidly dropping temperatures.
 
Her shoulders never hunch against the cold and her pace never slows.
 

The scent of pine pervades his senses as they move steadily down the mountain.
 
Icicles dangle from the branches, clacking in the rising winds.
 
The terrain is ever shifting as new snow is blown into deep slopes.

The trek back to the small timber cabin takes most of the afternoon and well into the evening.
 
He spies the first signs of the homestead just as the skies begin to darken.
 
A wooden fence marks out a plot of land, which although vacant of animals, shows evidence of hoof prints and chicken scratches in the snow.
 

A feed trough runs along the northern stretch of fencing, its contents frozen solid.
 
A small barn, barely large enough to hold a tractor, sits beyond the cabin.
 
An outhouse stands to the right of the cabin.
 

The homestead is quaint but uniquely self-sufficient.
 
Katia catches his curious gaze as she stamps snow from her boots on the wooden plank porch before unlatching the roughly hewn pine door.
 
Heat pours forth from within as she slips inside.
 

Gabriel closes the door behind himself, careful to make sure the latch falls into place.
 
The winds howl beyond the wooden walls, blustery and fierce.
 
He pauses beside a window for a second to watch the snow tornadoes that carve a path through the pasture.

“Shoes,” she says sharply.

He turns to find her stoking the fire, the embers barely glowing red beneath the ash of the previous log.
 
Glancing down, he realizes that the snow has dropped off him in clumps, melting into a puddle on her dirt floor.
 

“Sorry,” he mutters as he slips his feet from his sandals.
 
He looks around for a towel to clean up his mess but quickly realizes that the task would he hopeless as mud clings to the hem of his robe.
 

Apart from the earthen floor, everything in the cabin appears to be spotless.
 
Metal pots and pans hang from bent nails along the far wall. A small porcelain tub sits on a rickety table, no doubt used as a washbasin.
 
A small shelf, probably carved from the towering Siberian Pines just beyond Katia’s homestead holds two metal cups, bowls and plates.
 
A curtain, made from dingy canvas, hangs at the window.

“You’ve got a nice place here,” he says, pulling his robe up over his head.
 
The heat from the new flames is stifling as he removes as many layers as he can while still remaining decent.
 
He can’t imagine how unbearable it will be once it’s at full burn.

Katia nods as she rises from the stone hearth, a warm blaze spilling forth.
 
Three logs form a tepee over the metal grate.
 
The kindling catches the lower portions of bark.
 
She bends and shakes out of her coat, shrinking nearly half in size as she emerges from the bulky firs.
 
She bustles about the kitchen, clanging pots together.
 

“Sit,” she points toward the small seating area with a spoon as she carries a small pot over to the fire and places it on to heat.

Gabriel follows her direction to a low wooden chair, covered in ratty quilts.
 
A faint musty scent rises from the fabric as he gingerly sinks down, wary of its creaky design.
 
The chair is far from comfortable but judging by the bench across from him, she has offered him the best seat in the place.

Katia moves back to the pot.
 
The contents slosh up the sides as she plops a few root vegetables into the thick soup.
 
Gabriel scrunches up his nose at the hint of decay that greets him when he takes a breath.

Not wanting to appear rude, he looks to his right, glimpsing
 
a small bed behind a draped partition.
 
The curtain is a patchwork of old cloth, more holey than whole.
 
The threadbare quilt that covers the straw bed hardly looks thick enough to keep a person warm through the long winter months.

In a single glance, he takes in the entire cabin.
 
Bedroom sweeps into living room, which flows straight into the kitchen.
 
It would only take him thirty steps to reach from one side to the next.
 

Craning his head back, Gabriel realizes two lines of rope are strung across the cabin, just below the ceiling.
 
Thermal underwear and other unmentionables drape down, drying in the heat of the fire.
 
He looks away, hoping she didn’t notice his gaze.

“You far from home.”
 
He can tell it’s not a question from the knowing glint in her eye.
 
She stirs the contents of her pot a couple more times before dipping her spoon into the lumpy soup, scooping out a bowlful.

She offers him the bowl, her gaze expectant.
 
Steam rises from the thick broth.
  
He stares at the small potatoes, not quite coated enough to hide the wrinkly black skin.
 
His stomach churns and he holds his breath.
 
He offers Katia a smile, shaking his head as he moves to set the bowl on a side table, realizing too late that there is none.
 

She smirks down at him, shifting her weight onto her right side as she crosses her arms over her chest.
 
“No like?”

He grimaces, trying to sign a full stomach.
 
“Not hungry.”

“Lie.” She laughs and grabs the bowl from his hand.
 
She moves over to the bench and sinks back against the wooden frame.
 
Crossing her legs in her lap, she digs into the soup with her fingers, plucking out a bit of the fatty mystery meat.
 
Juice runs down her chin and she swipes it away with her sleeve.

Gabriel rubs the back of his neck and averts his gaze, uncomfortable with the slurping noises she is making.
 
As he looks around the sparse kitchen, he notices that Katia has two of every bowl, cup and plate.
 
“You live here alone?”

“Seneh.”

“Excuse me?” His back stiffens as he turns to look at her, shocked that she would know the name of his guardian angel.
 
The gruff, scarred angel doesn’t seem the type to mingle with humans much.