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Taking brittle breaths as I tromped up the slope toward the singular light, I believe I began to hallucinate. Perhaps it was the altitude, or my lack of air from the long trek, maybe even the dark. But, as the shadows fell over the moonlit washed crisp snow I could have sworn I faintly heard the familiar piano strains of some off hand piece of Chopin I recognized carried on the wind. Dismissing this as delusion and chalking it up to my hunger I pressed forward. Long ago the cold had settled under my coat and began seeping into my very bones. To me, I wasn't a very 'woodsy' person, but, I did know that if I did not find shelter soon I would most certainly freeze. Already edged on by the thought of frostbite and my loss of blood I quickened my pace. The snow swirled around and up everytime the wind would blow, picking it up off the ground to assult my face. Desperately I scrabbled up the mountainside towards my only salvation. I hadn't even strength enough to yell out my distress. Tired, so tired. My vision blurred. My head buzzed. Blood pounded in my ears. Dim and fuzzy I still oriented on my goal. So hard to keep focused. Not long now, no, not long. I can just make out the shape of a snug log cabin tucked in the woods, a single pinpoint of light escaping its cocoon of cedars. This had been what drew me up and out of that frozen ditch where my long cherished black '68 mustang now lay. This was what lead me forth seeking civilization of some minute matter to assist me. I knew I needed a doctor. I had lost too much blood not to be worried. I also knew that if I had stayed in said ditch by the time anyone would find me it would be too late and I would have either bled to death or frozen to death, which ever came first. How much further? How far had I come? Stopping momentarily to catch a rare breath and tighten the scarf wound around my head, I looked back to the way I had just come from. Eerily the snow settled and the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. I could clearly see the path I had made as I had struggled up the mountain face thus far. Oh God. No, that couldn't be. Could it? But it looks like it. But I did not see any injuries on my legs. Dear God was my head bleeding that badly that I had left a trail of blood? It must be, for there on the crust of the recently distrubed snow were dark smudges of crimson so unmistakable, so haunting. No, I won't let this daunt me. I know there is someone there, just beyond that ridge. Warm and toasty in that cabin. They will help me get to a doctor, perhaps they are even a doctor themselves. Oh wouldn't that be lovely? Yes. I must press forward. I must. I want to live. I will live damnit! I won't let some country bumpkin - speedracer wannabe - who doesn't bother to stop when they cause an accident - off me! No damnit! I'm gonna live just so I can find that asshole and sue him and his next four generations for every penny they have! 'calm down woman, your getting yourself so worked up you're gonna make yourself pass out! onward and upward!' My but I'm tired. I must rest, wait no, if I rest, I may not get back up. No, must press on. Slowly, steadily, I traverse the ledges of the gentle slope, hauling myself forward with the scrub brush. Now I'm nearly crawling. The snow so brutally cold on my hands and knees. I'm crawling now aren't I? I must do whatever it takes. Thank the Lord, only a few hundred feet left. Only a few hundred feet between me and that big beautiful glass door! I can just see myself knocking on that door and being greeted by a friendly elderly couple still spry and full of life and kindness. He, a retired doctor who would heal my gashed head, and she, a lovely woman who would bring me hot chocolate and warm chicken soup, with freshly baked cookies! Yes, they would be my salvation and I would be saved from the bitter cold. Or so I thought before everything fuzzed out of focus and with a sickening snap - all went black.
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The night was cruely cold and thus that was what had brought him out of his warm haven. Not used to the frigidly drastic temperature changes in the northern nights he had misgaged the amount of needed firewood for the night. Now bundled up, he alone, braved the whipping wind in the crackelingly cold dark for more. Great hulking strides swiftly brought him to the woodpile not far from the ornate glass door overlooking the southern slope of the mountain. Intent on making this the quickest trip possible he did not hesitate to load his massive arms. That was when he heard it. The sound of a soft wimpering sigh and gentle crunch of snow being depressed by more mass than that of a foot fall. Turning his head toward the sound, he held his breath to try to hear more while he let his eyes adjust to the peculiar shapes morphing in the moonlight showering the snow stretched across the ground. There, in a little heap, lay what was asuredly a body. "Hello?" he rumbled. No answer. Heaving his partial armload aside he ran to the crumpled body to lend assistance. 'So tiny,' he thought. At first he had a passing notion it may be a child. But, quickly he realized as he turned over the body, that it was that of a petite woman with a bloodied face and clothes. He shrugged out of his jacket and gingerly wrapped her in it. Quickly he scooped her up and carried her into the cabin, being met with a very curious Maggie. He directly brought her up to the loft so as to be closer to the bathroom. He thought it best to lay her in a more comfortable place than the couch and he knew she would be needing the extra warmth of the electric blanket. Without haste he quickly stripped her head of the ragged blood soaked scarf. In the clear light he could see that she had a gash on her forhead above her temple. She had been lucky it wasn't lower. Taking note that it had nearly stopped bleeding he softly lay the scarf back over her wound and scurried off to the nearby bathroom to retrieve what he would be needing to fix her up. Entering the bedroom once again with hands full he proceeded to strip her of her dirty, wet clothing and wound dressing. Gently he washed the blood from her and carefuly cleaned the wound. Patting her dry and slipping her into one of his flannel shirts and a pair of sox he bundled her up in the flannel sheets, electric blanket, several quilts, even the afghan from the chair by the window just for good measure. Once he was satisfied that she would again warm up he began to attend to the nasty gaping slit that he was sure was the cause of all this fuss. After fetching some fresh water he again cleaned the wound more thouroghly this time, patted it dry, applied some neosporin and two butterfly bandages, then topped it off with a clean dressing to keep out the grime. Satisfied with his work he checked her for a fevor and finding none he sent a prayer and thanks for this woman. Gathering his supplies and her soiled clothes, he trotted back, once again, to the bathroom to deposit them and set her clothes to soak. Upon returning to the bedside he sat his bulking mass on the foot and pulled out his cell phone. After two quick calls to his own doctor and his familial home he was rest asured that she would pull through quickly none the worse for the wear, but, it would be best not to disturb her for the time being. His brothers would have to take that meeting in a couple of days without him and it may just be possible he would not be making it home for christmas this year. He knew his mother and the little ones would be heartbroken, but it was now out of his hands. God had seen fit to charge him with the care of this woman and he would do everything to see to it that she was taken care of properly until such time she would no longer have need of him. They understood and all was smoothed over quickly. Seeing that she was comfortable and there was nothing more to be done for her other than hold a bedside vigil awaiting her to awake, he decided it best to retrieve the forgotten firewood. Stealthly he arose from the large bed and retrieved his discarded jacket from the floor, slipping into it he sauntered down the stairs. Maggie immediately met him at the foot of the stairs with nervous, dancing steps. He soothed her with a scratch and gentle coos. Once again he braved the chilling darkness, this time with a companion, and returned with a massive armload of firewood to go through the night. The wheels in his head began turning and he thought it best if he get yet another armload for later on to save time. With that chore done and the fire stoked and banked for maximum heat, he left Maggie behind and bounded up the stairs to check on his ward. She lay so peaceful it was hard to remember that she was in fact ailing. Satisfied with her condition for the moment and thinking about when she would awake the grandfather clock began to strike. The chimes brought him out of his reviere and he quickly turned his thoughts to the practicality of the here and now. Reluctant to leave her alone for too long he decided to make himself an easy late dinner to quell the rumble in his stomach. Quietly he left her once more, mentaly promising to check on her often, he slipped from the room.
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Upon entering into the kitchen, Maggie hot on his heels, he had already made up his mind what he would have and went about preparing dinner. Maggie content for the time being, lay in her bed on the floor and droopy eyed watched her master bustle about the room. Reaching over the butchers block he retrieved a kettle and set it on the stove. Passing through into the pantry he began sifting through the contents of the deep freeze for his desired item. Popping out of the freezer he came up with a tupperware tub clearly labeled and he inwardly smiled and thanked his mom. What would he do without her? Plopping the container into the sink he began to run water over it to thaw it out some, while he returned to the pantry for the remaining ingreedients of tonites repast. Setting his armload of supplies on the counter he returned to the sink and shut off the water. Popping open the tub, he ran a knife along the edges to loosen it up some more and brought it to the awaiting kettle. With a loud clanging thud the frozen mass was transfered to the pot on the stove and he put the heat on underneath it. Reaching up he turned on the oven to the proper temperature and returned to the counter. Grabbing a large bowl from the open cupboard he deftly mixed and measured all the proper ingreedients forming his dough. Rummaging the drawer he finally came up with his prize and then began his search for proper sized pans. By now he had begun to get the faintest hints comming from the bubbling kettle on the fire. It made his middle section growl all the more. Fetching a can freom the fridge he popped the top and gulped down the entire contents lickety split. Giving a self satisfying burp he tossed the now empty dr. pepper can into the bin with the rest of them. Turning back to the work at hand he prepared the pans and floured the counters bread board. Upon returning from giving the kettle a quick stir with a large wooden spoon, and breaking up some of the larger fozen chunks, he hefted the bowl of dough and turned it out onto the smoothed out layer of flour. After the four 'dust' had settled he opened his eyes again, wipped his face, and chided himself for making such a mess. He lightly tossed a bit of flour over the dough turnning it on the board to cover the outside. He smoothed another handful over the rolling pin he had searched so diligently through the drawer for. With quick short strokes he worked the dough into a thick flat slab. Not finding a biscuit cutter in the drawer, he used the next best thing - a glass. Gently laying he rounded biscuits in the pan it quickly filled and he popped it into the oven. Careful not to overwork the dough he repeated his previous steps and filled another pan, reworking the final scraps into a large singular disc for Maggie later on. With that done he again stirred the contents of the kettle that now had filled the cabin with its savory aroma. His mouth watered in anticipation. He set about cleaning up the mess he made on the counter and himself, taking no notice of Maggie raising her head from the soft cushion. Silently she cocked her head and turned her muzzle in the direction of the staircase in the great room. He busied himself with tidying up the kitchen and replacing the pantry items. Maggie left her bed and trotted off. Arms full, he entered the pantry and began replacing all the ingreedients he had been using, when he heard Maggie give a yelping bark. Dropping everything, he sprang from the kitchen into the ghreat room where he was greeted by Maggie headed up the stairs. "Good girl. Stay." Reluctantly she retreated to sit by the fireplace waiting for her masters return. He took the staris three at a time to reach her as quickly as possible. Before he even got to the bedside he could hear her low moans of pain. 'Well, at least she's waking up,' he thought. As gently as he could he sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed back her hair over her creased brow as she was pulled from her slumber. Before long she stirred enough so as to open her eyes. He caught her gaze and was met with a stunning kaleideoscope of colors in wide hazel eyes. "Don't try to get up, rest for now."
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