Page 23 of Savage Warrior

“I am sorry. I will go…”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I reply. “But you have not answered my question.”

“Please, just let me leave…”

“I’m not stopping you.” I lower my gun. I may be no wiser about why she’s here, but I’m pretty sure this girl is no threat to me.

I take stock as much as I can in the pale torchlight. Pale-blonde hair falls in gentle waves to about the middle of her back. She’s small, I can tell that much, and slightly built, though her curves are in all the right places. My eyes are drawn to her breasts, pert and pretty and perfectly formed. She makes no attempt to conceal them from me, which I find oddly endearing. I suppose she’s attractive enough, but young. Too young?

“How old are you?” I’m guessing fifteen or sixteen. Christ!

“I am nineteen.”

I nod, relieved. “It might be a good idea if you get dressed.”

She seems to agree and clambers off the bed in search of her clothes. She locates them hanging from the edge of the table, a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and quickly shimmies into them. Not quite so pretty but a lot less distracting.

I do a quick assessment of my circumstances. She’s trespassing but not dangerous. I can risk turning my back on her. It’s that or carry on lumbering around in the dark and cold.

“I’m going to sort out the electricity,” I inform her. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

It doesn’t take me long to locate the generator, and Ethan’s instructions are precise enough for me to be able to get it going without much trouble. The snow is still falling when I wade back through the growing drifts to the now brightly lit-up cabin. I’m looking forward to a hot coffee, maybe even a shower, then bed. I’ll work out what to do with the girl in the morning.

Except, there’ll be no need. Because she’s gone.

I stamp the snow off my boots, enter, take off my Parka and shake it out, and only then do I realise I’m alone. I shrug. That saves me the problem of evicting her tomorrow. Now, where does Ethan keep coffee in this place?

I get as far as half boiling the kettle before I’m reaching for my Parka again. The weather outside is foul. I’ve no idea what sort of outdoor gear she has, but I doubt it’s much. She’ll probably not survive the night out there.

And that would be two deaths on my conscience.

I set off to find her, grateful that she left footprints in the snow. And stunned to realise that those prints are of someone walking barefoot.

She must have been more desperate to escape than I realised if she ran out without even putting her shoes on. What did she think I was going to do to her?

It takes me twenty minutes in the driving snow to locate her. I finally almost trip over her huddling against a tree trunk in a vain attempt to hide from me. Not only is she without shoes, she has no jacket either.

I crouch in front of her and drape my waterproof jacket around her shoulders. “Arina? You need to come with me, back inside…”

She shakes her head but can’t speak for the chattering of her teeth. She’s probably well on the way to hyperthermia already.

If I don’t get the pair of us back to the cabin quickly, I’ll be in the same position. There’s no time for further discussion. I pick her up and set off back the way I came.

Her protests are weak. There’s no fight left in her. She shivers in my arms, huddled in the jacket. She’s tiny, light as a feather. It’s as though there’s nothing to her but skin and bone. I cover the distance back to the cabin in half the time it took to get here.

Once back inside, I back-heel the door and deposit Arina on the bed. “I’ll get the shower going. We need to warm up.”

When I come back, the hot water splashing behind me, she hasn’t moved. She sits slumped on the edge of the bed, gazing at the floor.

“You can go first,” Her need is greater than mine.

She doesn’t react.

I drop to my haunches in front of her. “Arina, you need to get out of those wet clothes and into the shower.”

Her eyes are closed. She looks to be asleep, but I know better. She’s simply given up.

Right, then.

---