
 If You Go Down To the Woods Today....
Chapter One
© Cederwyn Whitefurr
5th February, 2012
All Rights Reserved. 




Kalen stood, as naked as the day he had been born, feeling the warmth of the fireplace before him, lightly toasting his body from head to toe.  His well muscled form twitched as he turned himself about, completely oblivious to the snow storm that raged outside, its howling wind rattling the thick double glazed panes of glass; snow flurries swirling and streaking past the windows – indeed, he had nothing but feelings of contentment, being up in his fathers cabin, deep in the forest.


 Standing six feet two inches, with a trim, athletic form, Kalen ran his hands up over his light brown hair and ran his fingers through it, feeling the pleasure in just getting away from it all.  He was here alone, nobody as far as he knew, for miles, if not dozens of miles – and he had enough food,water and other provisions to last at least a month.  He loved coming up here in the hunting season – he came more for the tranquillity and relaxation. He had shot a few deer over the years – but more and more, as he grew older – he came to appreciate nature, and his gun had spent this season, over the old stone fireplace, where he intended to keep it.


 As he listened to the old cottage creak under a surprisingly strong gust of wind, he speculated on where this unusual storm had come from – what it had seen, where it was going, and what the animals of the forest did, when they new a storm was on its way.  Chuckling to himself, he reached down to the pine wood table, on which sat a double-nip of scotch – just the thing he felt would help take the chill off his bones.  As he lifted the glass to his mouth, he was just about to take a sip – when there suddenly came a frenetic pounding on his door of his cabin.


 Startled, Kalen spun about, the glass falling from his fingers, as he blinked, disbelieving anyone would be out on that storm – which by the sounds of it, was really starting to pick up its tempo.  Hurriedly pulling on a dressing gown that hung near the door, Kalen barely had time to tie it closed, before he unlatched the door, listening to a faint, piercing cry for help – and a thudding of what sounded like hands beating on the door...but he couldn't be sure – was it someone out in the storm? Was it just his mind playing tricks...he did not know, all he knew was if it was some hunter or someone else lost in that freezing white-out – he couldn't turn them away...


 Throwing open the door, Kalen gasped as the freezing wind and snow tore through his gown and nearly chilled him to the bone – the swirling snow flicking in through the open door, as he stared in bewilderment – seeing what looked like a bear of a man – dressed in heavy winter parka and other clothes, who just collapsed into Kalen's arms...and Kalen felt a warm, sticky something – as he clutched the man around his waist and pulled him inside.


 "Thank...oh god this hurts..." Gasped the stranger, as he rolled onto his side and coughed, a rattling sound coming from his chest.


 Kalen blinked, not knowing who this stranger was, how he came to be here, and as he slammed the door closed against the door frame, Kalen's eyes widened in horror as he looked at his own hands – seeing the fresh blood that coated them.  Snapping his gaze to that of the man, Kalen saw the first hints of blood puddling around the now unconscious form of the man before him – who lay half on, half off a whitetail skin rug – be back of his jacket sticky with half-frozen blood.  Without thinking, Kalen rushed to the sink and retrieved several hand towels, before returning to the man and gently rolling him over – looking at the pale, drawn face, the closed eyes, and the blue tinges of the man’s lips. Kalen felt him over quickly, trying to remember what little first aid training he'd undertaken years ago – then he cautiously lifted the back of the man's thick polar jacket and winced, seeing the spreading bloodstain on his chequered shirt he wore beneath the parka...and the bullet hole through both clothing.


 "Gods preserve us - " Kalen gasped, eyes widening.  "You've been shot - "


 Not knowing what else to do, Kalen's mind whirled, as he was a lowly-paid office worker, who worked out of a cubicle farm – back in the city.  He was no trained paramedic, or better yet – an Emergency Trauma Surgeon...all he had, was a three day course on basic first aid – and they'd never come close to treating an injury like this....


 Stripping the man's parka off, Kalen threw it aside, then carefully peeled the shirt away – before noticing how the blood was clotting part of the shirt to his wound, so he left it alone, then pressed two hand towels over the wound, holding pressure to the injury as best he could.  After some time, he tore one of the sheets into a crude bandage, before dressing the wound as best he could and firmly padding it – before he slumped back against the leg of the table, staring in bewilderment.


 Who was this stranger – who had shot him? Why had he been shot – Kalen had heard no gunshots for nearly a week – so how far had this stranger come?  Checking the stranger over once again, Kalen found no identification, but did find a long knife strapped to the man's thigh – which he untied and placed on the side table, before searching him again.  No identification, no idea where he come from, or even if he was going to survive the night – Kalen placed a thick blanket over the man, not knowing what else to do...then he sat in his fathers old rocking chair, placed a blanket about his own body – and kept a vigilant watch over this enigmatic man...hoping for the best, but preparing himself for the worst....


*


  For nearly two days, the stranger lay in what Kalen come to think, as a coma – brought on through the injury, which Kalen had done his best to keep clean and infection free – regularly cleaning the wound and using what little iodine he had – to try and disinfect the bullet wound.  Again and again, he cursed his misfortune, as the violent storm continued unabated outside – the snow coming thicker and heavier  It was persistent enough, to prevent Kalen from taking this stranger to the nearby village, that lay about ten miles through the forest – so Kalen grew increasingly anxious, not knowing wether this man would live or die.


*


 Finally, awakening from his coma, or so it seemed, the man moaned something unintelligible, and Kalen's eyes snapped open, as he blinked and rubbed his eyes – realising he'd fallen asleep.  Outside, the wind and snow continued their imprisoning hold over the woodlands – and Kalen twitched, before he come fully awake and heard the man make a low, moaning cry again.
 
 "Water...please - " Was all Kalen heard.


 Carefully getting to his feet, Kalen dipped a ladle into the bucket of fresh water he kept beside the sink – the taps long having frozen solid – and he tipped it into a cup, before returning and kneeling down, offering the stranger the water.  Weakly, the man sipped a few drops, then gasped, the pain from his injury searing through his body.  Kalen put the cup down, then pressed the back of his hand to the man's forehead, before he moaned quietly.


 "You're burning up – you've got a fever..." Kalen gasped, wracking his brain for an answer.


 "I..." Mumbled the incoherent man lying before him.  "Where..."


 "You're safe – for the moment - " Kalen told him, holding the cup out for him to drink some more.  "You're in my cottage – its warm and dry here, and as soon as this storm breaks, I'll get you to the village – we can call the..."


 With surprising strength, the humans hand shot out and squeezed Kalen's wrist in a crushing grasp.


 "NO!" Gasped the man, before he twitched and his hand slipped from Kalen's wrist. "I...you can't – call the..."


 With a choking gasp, the man twitched, then his body went limp – and Kalen checked his pulse, realising he was merely unconscious.  Why did this stranger not want someone to be notified? He'd been shot...and if he did not get help soon – he would surely die, as Kalen was no expert, but he could see there was no exit-wound from the bullet...which meant it was still inside.  Even though the blood had stained the thick hand towel over the bandaged injury – Kalen didn't think it would be enough. He knew this man, wether he liked it or not, would need surgery – and soon.  He turned to the radio that sat shrouded in dust and almost forgotten under some old blankets – then realised his error – this old relic was a dinosaur – something his father had brought back from the war – and it hadn’t worked in years.  He'd been meaning to throw it away, but the sentimental value it brought Kalen, made him keep it – now – it was more a hindrance than a help, as Kalen needed to contact somebody in the outside world...to get some help, or this stranger wouldn't last much longer....


*


 Under Kalen's dutiful attention and care, the man's fever broke two days later – but he remained pallid and shaking, and Kalen wondered if anything could be done to save this stranger.  He didn't even know the man's name – only he had been shot – presumably a hunting accident...they were quite common when fellow hunters got the 'Buck Fever' – especially so after a few drinks....  keeping a close eye on the man, who seemed to be sleeping Kalen sipped at a new scotch he had made for himself, and tried to fight off the sleep which whispered seductively to his overworked mind.  Wearily, he glanced at the window, where a thick drift of snow had accumulated, but it seemed the storm was slowly wearing itself out...and hopefully...by the morning – he would be able to hike the ten miles down to the village – and get help – before it was too late.  His eyes grew heavy, and as he blinked them slowly, he sipped his scotch again...before the glass fell from his slackening fingers and sleep come down on him like a hammer....


*


 Next morning, the storm had finally moved on, and Kalen felt chilled, the log cabin fireplace having almost completely exhausted the thick wood he had loaded it with – only a few dim embers still glowed in the grate.  He checked on his unexpected guest, who, it seemed, was unconscious, so Kalen thought better of disturbing him – knowing the sooner he got this cottage warmed up, and set off to find help – the sooner he could try and make sense of what was going on.  As he pulled on thick outdoor clothing, and a pair of well padded gloves, he reached out and touched the door handle – prepared to open it – when a...hand – then an arm, both dark and seemingly wearing a fur glove, slipped past his neck and with a starting movement, slammed the door closed – then grasped Kalen by the collar.


  All this happened in the few seconds it had taken Kalen to reach for the door, then open it – and his mind did a double-take, as it mentally blinked – noticing this 'glove' wasn't a glove at all – the finger were real...black paw-pads – and as he began to turn, he was savagely thrust against the door from behind, the breath crushed from his lungs, leaving him gasping.  He felt a hot, moist breath wash over his back, and the grip tightened painfully – as Kalen struggled to breathe.  He felt, more than saw, a furred muzzle brush past his neck – the hairs on his nape standing bolt upright, before there came a low, menacing growl – barely identifiable as human – and this...thing – pressed itself tight against Kalen's back, before it whispered into his ears.


 “I'm sorry...but I can't let you leave....”


To Be Continued... 