Page 11 of Broken Mountain Man

"You've got that right. I'm not really one for suffering fools lightly."

The hint of a smirk also tugs at the corner of his whiskered mouth.

"Then I guess we've got that much in common, at least."

I shoot him a sly look.

"So, will you finally spill the story on why you're out here, living like a rugged mountain hermit?"

Russell seems to consider for a few moments before shaking his head, "Not much to tell. I put all that in the past where it belongs." He then redirects the conversation. "Does this food taste alright to you? It's not too bad for survivalist grub, I'd hope."

I frown slightly, disappointed he deflected my probing question yet again. Why does this handsome loner have to be so stubbornly closed off?

"It's fine, I guess," I reply, trying not to let my piqued curiosity show. "Not exactly gourmet, but it'll do in a pinch."

He gives a grunt of acknowledgment before taking another bite, seemingly content to let the subject drop for now. I stifle a sigh, resigning myself to work harder if I want to crack through his gruff outer shell.

For some inexplicable reason, I am somewhat determined to unravel the mysteries surrounding this surly mountain man. I just can't shake the feeling there's more to Russell than meets the eye.

Chapter 6 - Russell

My chest rises and falls with heavier breaths than average. For a moment back there, I almost told her everything - the horrors I witnessed during my military tours, what happened to my best friend and the others - the guilt that still eats me up inside after all these years.

My hands tremble slightly, and I can feel the newly bandaged cut on my finger throbbing dully as if mirroring the phantom aches of wounds long healed over.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I force myself to take a slow, steadying breath. I can't let myself go down that path again; I can't risk dragging someone else into my darkness.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Lyla's concerned voice cuts through the fog of memories threatening to overwhelm me. My eyes snap open to find her studying me with worry across her delicate features.

She looks almost ethereal in this dim cabin light - an oasis of light piercing through the inky shadows I've cloaked myself in for far too long.

"I'm fine," I reply gruffly, blinking hard to banish the fanciful notion, "If you weren't here, I'd probably just be hitting my bunk about now anyway."

She arches an exquisitely shaped brow, "Isn't it a little early to be turning in?"

"Out here, I rise with the sun and sleep after supper," I explain with a negligent shrug. "But you're welcome to stay up and keep yourself occupied if you'd like. Not like there's much for entertainment around these parts."

Lyla hums thoughtfully at that, gaze drifting around the sparse living quarters as if searching for potential amusements. Her lips purse adorably, and I hastily look away before my eyes can linger too long.

Dammit, I need to rein in this inappropriate train of thought before it goes any further. She's just a younger girl who got herself turned around in the woods - a stranger owing me no allegiance who'll be on her way again soon enough. No point in overcomplicating matters by entertaining any other kinds of notions.

"You know, I am feeling pretty wiped myself," Lyla admits with a slight yawn. "I'll probably just hit the sack when you do. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow with you teaching me all your wild woodland ways."

I give a stern nod, "Are you sure about that? It isn't going to be a walk in the park out there. I won't be going easy on you."

She meets my gaze steadily. "I'm sure. Maybe the survival skills will be useful for me someday out in the real world."

For a beat, confusion clouds my thoughts - until the stark reminder hits me like a sucker punch. She's just here temporarily. Another day or two at most before she moves on, continuing her journey without a sideways glance back at this isolated life.

The realization is like a bucket of ice water dowsing any stray embers of warmth I might have allowed to flicker. This is precisely why I can't afford to get attached, to let myself slip back into...complications.

Abruptly rising from the table, I give a curt nod.

"Alright then. We'd better turn in and rest up while we can."

Lyla watches me, clearly picking up on the shift in my demeanor, even if she can't decipher the reason behind it. For once, she doesn't argue or needle me further - simply mirroring my action and pushing back from the table as well.

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