Chapter Text
The heat of blood against your fingers was a blissful contrast against the harsh cold of the northern winter. But the warmth only told you two things: the first was obviously that you’d been wounded and the second was that you were still alive. Sometimes in the frigid cold when your body grows numb and still, it’s hard to remember that you’re alive. It’s harder yet to remember that you’re human and not a part of the landscape.
You had tracked your prey for weeks and it had been a silent, lonely hunt. They usually were. You could go days without seeing another living soul out there on the frontier. And when you did finally bump into someone, you kept quiet and went on your way. You didn’t want them to know your name or why you were in the area. You especially didn’t want them to know your profession. They needed to forget you were ever there to being with.
You trudged through the snow and not even the thickness of your breeches or the leather of your furs could keep out the cold. It seemed to seep past every layer of cloth, through the thinness of your skin, and down into the core of your bones. Even the breaths you took were brittle and icy.
You pulled your hand away from the wound, peered down uselessly at the blood that pooled out of it. It was that moment you accepted your fate. It was then that you realized you weren’t going to reach the nearest town in time to seek help. You were weeks away from the largest town and you couldn’t recall if you passed any homes along the way.
You gritted your teeth and slipped your eyes closed. It wasn’t even the worst wound, either, that was the irony of it. You had sustained far more horrendous wounds. But they had been patched up with expertise moments after receiving them.
You placed your hand back over the sticky and thickening goo, pressed the leathers and furs across it in hope to slow the bleeding but… God, you knew it wouldn’t help. Your heart was pounding from the laborious trek through the snowy woods. It was killing itself. You were bleeding out faster by the second and you would die there alone without anyone aware of your condition.
Who would go back to Boston and inform the others? Would they notice you hadn’t returned? Would they grow worried about your prolonged absence? Perhaps they might even think you abandoned their cause for your own.
You scoffed at that, a ragged and harsh laugh, coated with a metallic taste that bit at the back of your throat. No, you were too loyal for that and they knew it. They would worry about you… You hoped they would worry about you. You hoped they would send someone because you weren’t sure you could even take the next step. The snow felt so heavy against your legs and your bones felt like brittle stone crumbling beneath your weight.
You shook your head wearily, cursing yourself for having been so careless. You leaned your shoulder into the closest tree and slid down its rough and jagged surface. You eased into the freezing snow, your knees against the hard skin of the earth, and you let the tension roll away.
Perhaps you deserved this fate. Perhaps all of the horrible things you did were finally catching up to you. Someone had to do it, you excused. Someone.
You tried to lift your eyes, to look out upon the scenery once more before you really lost consciousness. The sun glinted and glistened across the soft white mounds of snow, the hips of trees casting shadows in the most blissful way possible. In the distance you could make out the painted horizon of delicate pinks and flares of orange.
You trembled down a breath, the hot blood along your hand cooling. You had little time to process it. There was the crunch and grind of snow beneath heavy footfalls. Wolves, you thought, but their trek was louder than wolves. No, human you reconsidered as your wavering gaze bobbed across your surroundings.
Native, you realized when you finally met his eyes. But it was a brief glimpse before you swayed forward, your body finally falling into the dense snow. Even your breath cooled, no longer warm in your lungs or along the rim of your nose. You weren’t sure you even remembered what warm felt like. Everything was ice.
Then it came, a gentle and enveloping heat that blanketed across your quivering form. It was feverish hot, licking and lapping away the frozen sweat that gathered across your skin. Your frozen form thawed against it, melted into the delightful touches of sun and summer. Your thoughts swayed between memories of a happier time when the sun filtered through the canopies of trees, filtered through thin leaves until shadows dappled your skin only barely.
You took down the deepest breath, the first breath in what seemed like an eternity. You pried your eyes open with the hopes of seeing that green and lush world where spring thrived but… The branches were barren, barely a leaf still clinging, and even the sky was a dusting of grey hues.
But heat flickered across your skin, fighting back the bitterness of winter. It took a great deal of strength for you to sweep your gaze towards the crackling and sputtering noises of the campfire. He sat on the other side of the flames, his already bronze skin cast into deeper shades of gold.
He sensed your eyes upon him, a skill he must have picked up over years of being on the frontier. He set aside his knife and the animal he’d been skinning. Rabbit, you think absentmindedly. He stood tall and made his way over, the broadness of his form unsettling you. You were weak and wounded and if he desired, he could take your life or worse.
You flinched away from him as he kneeled down and lifted a small bowl into view. His arm, wrapped and coiled in muscle, slid beneath your neck until your head was propped up. Wordlessly, he pressed the bowl to your lips and the cool liquid inside rippled towards your lips.
“Drink,” he ordered when you didn’t make the effort. “It will help.”
You sipped upon the concoction, a harsh and rancid taste that caused a sharp gasp. Some of it went down your throat too quickly, causing you to cough. A splintering pain shot across your lower abdomen and it felt as if your torn flesh was being ripped further open.
When your coughs subsided, he tilted the bowl and allowed a bit more to pass your lips. You took your time in swallowing it down, a wretched herbal remedy that sharply bit at your tongue and up into your sinuses.
He eased you back down onto the ground before setting the bowl aside. His eyes lingered with yours for a moment. He let his gaze trail across your body and down towards the place where you’d been skewered by a blade. His hand gently pushed away the furs and cloth, exposing your torso, the feverish lesion throbbing against the cold air.
His expression was empty, blank as he glanced it over then gave a slight nod. “The wound was made cleanly. It will take time but it will heal.”
You tried to keep your eyes open, to fight against the exhaustion that clouded your mind. You spoke, a raspy and unfamiliar noise, “What’s your name?”
He took his time replying. He focused on covering you back up, his hands large but somehow patient. “Connor.”
Your eyes thinned, nearly closed, but you kept your focus. “What’s your real name?” You watched him stand and when you realized he wasn’t going to reply you added weakly, “You’re a Native of this land, yes?”
The word rolled off of his tongue, the letters sounding nearly like a lullaby, “Ratonhnhaké:ton.” He moved around the fire and sat down on the log he’d been on earlier. “It would be easier if I was Connor.”
You scoffed, nearly choked on it as the tang of blood and the rancid earth swelled in your throat. “I’m not one for easy…” You swallowed painfully, your eyes watering from the assaulting agony. “Thank you, Ra…” You groaned, thoughts swimming as your vision lost focus.
“Rest. The herbs I gave you, they will make it easy to sleep.” He pulled out his knife, the metal shimmering beneath the blaze of the fire. He began to work again on the rabbit, its red flesh slowly being peeled clean.
Your eyes fluttered, desperate to stay awake because you still didn’t know if you could trust the stranger. But it was nearly impossible. Your body was fighting you and even your mind gave up as your vision speckled with darkness. You eased against the earth, bones and muscle sinking into it like a child in the arms of its mother.
Time felt distorted with each moment that you woke. There were times when the sun hung high above you, beaming as best she could against the winter gray. Other times, both day and night, it was the moon that greeted you first. But every time your eyes opened and you gained consciousness, Ratonhnhaké:ton was there with his herbal remedy.
At some point he must have bandaged the wound because there were times when he would unravel the cloth to examine its progress. He spoke nothing unless you asked and you were honestly too tired to ask much, words forming too slowly and dreams merging with reality.
You opened your eyes to a softened darkness. Sunset or sunrise, you couldn't be certain. Your thoughts felt clearer if not somewhat groggy with sleep. Your arms slid back, hoisting your torso up until you could sit forward and take in your surroundings. It was a small space, cleared of snow as best as possible, and the campfire smoldered smokily beside you.
Ratonhnhaké:ton was curled on his side, arm used as a poor pillow. He looked stranger asleep. He looked less stern, less guarded and nearly the sight of a sleeping pup. Fragile, you considered while leaning forward. You tried to move your legs and bring yourself to your knees but the muscles quivered.
“You are still not well.” He was up off the ground before you could even look over. “But you appear healthy enough to leave this area.”
You took his outstretched hand, hauling yourself up onto your wobbling legs. “The closest village. You can drop me off there. I'll find the rest of my way on my own.” Your knees buckled and he was close enough to catch you just before you fell.
Ratonhnhaké:ton pressed you firmly against his chest, a look of pity on the edges of his expression. “You are stubborn. You should have someone look at your wound.”
You chuckled acidicly, ducking your heading away. “I already did. He gave me herbs and bandaged it.”
“I am not a doctor.” An arm remained hooked around your waist as he guided you around the fire towards the log he'd been sitting on for the past few days. Perhaps it had been weeks, you weren't sure. “Rest. I will pack camp.”
“Rest,” you mocked bitterly. “I have suffered far worse than this.”
He gathered his things, the few items that he had. He was well armored, you noticed, and must have lived a large portion of his life out on the frontier. He seemed to be very much a part of it as it was part of him. He was Native to this land and yet… Where were his people?
His words were final, resolute, “You will see a doctor.”
You shifted in the seat, putting all your effort into getting to your feet. “I need to return to Boston. There’s important business I need to attend to.”
Ratonhnhaké:ton leapt forward, eager to keep you from falling, his hands cupping both of your elbows. “More important than your life?”
You grimaced from the painful discomfort, masking it as a smirk as best you could. “Yes, it is.”
“Then we will go to a doctor in Boston.” His arm secured itself around your waist. And he made sure your arm gripped firmly onto his shoulder before daring to haul you out of the grove and into the knee high snowy landscape.
Each step was splintering, bones creaking and your muscles burning. How long had you been listless to cause such a feverish feeling? Your words were spat with more frustration than you intended, “Why are you helping me? Shouldn't you return to your tribe? I'm sure they miss you by now.”
“You do not wish for my help?” His steps ceased, voice hard and stern like a bitter mentor than anything else. “I can leave you here then. Go on. Walk. Find your way to Boston.”
You sucked down a breath of air. You peered up at him then clenched your eyes shut.
He gave a cocky hum of approval before shuffling with you through the snow.
“I am curious though.” You made an attempt to lose the hard edge of your voice. You weren't trying to sound angry. It was simply a habit. “I am a stranger to you. Why help me?”
His answer was final, plain, and very much the truth, “Because you need it.”