“No.”
“Why?”
“Storm.”
Her eyes moved toward his belt.
Simple leather.
Utility knife.
No buckle large enough to frighten anyone.
Still, she recoiled.
The Mountain Man removed it.
Placed it across the room.
The Young Woman stared.
He said:
“You’re bleeding.”
“I need to finish wrapping your feet.”
“Can I?”
Silence.
Then she nodded.
The Mountain Man approached slowly.
He touched only her ankle.
Nothing more.
When he finished, he pulled blankets around her.
Then moved his own bedroll to the floor beside the fire.
The Young Woman watched.
“You sleep there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The Mountain Man looked confused.
“Because you’re in the bed.”
That answer broke something open inside her.
Not tears.
Almost.
She turned away before he could see.
She slept nearly two days.
Fever came.
Went.
The Mountain Man changed cloths.
Fed her broth when she could swallow.
Never undressed her.
Never climbed into the bed.
Never touched without speaking first.
On the third morning she woke clearheaded.
The Mountain Man sat at the table sharpening a knife.
The sound made her tense.
He noticed.
Stopped.
Placed the knife down.
“You’re awake.”
The Young Woman looked toward the door.
Snow packed against the lower half.
“How long?”
“Three days.”
Her eyes widened.
“What did you do to me?”
The Mountain Man’s face hardened slightly.
“Kept you alive.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He understood.
“I cleaned cuts.”
“Wrapped your feet.”
“Changed bandages on your arm.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
She searched his face.
He did not look offended.
Only tired.
She looked toward the floor.
His bedroll.
Then back at him.
“You slept there?”
“Yes.”
“Every night?”
“Yes.”
She looked confused.
The Mountain Man stood.
Went toward the stove.
Poured coffee.
Then changed his mind and poured water instead.
He gave it to her.
“You don’t have to trust me.”
The Young Woman took the cup.
“What?”
“You’re trying to decide if I’m lying.”
She looked up sharply.
He shrugged.
“Reasonable.”
She drank.
The water tasted like smoke and metal.
Best thing she had ever tasted.
Days passed.
The storm sealed them inside.
The Young Woman began walking again.
Slowly.
First from bed to table.
Then table to door.
She insisted on helping.
The Mountain Man objected once.
She glared.
He stopped objecting.
She swept.