A Snow moon christmas

Finding shelter

*Chester*

I manage to grab her and haul her to the bank with enough force that we both tumble onto the snow. Fortunately, not enough of the ice has given way that she was in danger of falling through, but still, my heart is pounding. "Are you all right?" I ask.

She nods, then releases a breath that is more laugh than air. “I was terrified for a moment there. It sounded awful. I'm embarrassed that I screamed."

“I barely heard it because of my shouting. But I think we should head back now." I tell her.

“Yes, indeed. The weather seems to be worsening at an amazing clip." She mumbles.

The snowfall is heavier, damp, and sticky. The wind is circling around in gales. I remove her skates, then shove myself to my feet before pulling her up. I entwine my arm with hers, face in the direction from which we had come, and realize that a good bit of the visibility is lost to us. “Stay close," I order, and I feel her hold on me tighten.

We walk as quickly as possible, which isn't fast enough, as far as I'm concerned. Her strides are shorter than mine, and she is having a difficult time keeping up. I can feel her trembling as the wind howls around us and the snow falls in a constant wash of thick, heavy flakes. Barely breaking my stride, I shrug out of my coat and drape it over her shoulders.

“Chester, it’s too cold." She says.

“I will be fine," I lie as the wind slices through me.

Why didn't I insist that we head back earlier? I wanted more time with her, to speak with her, to try to make my case.

How far have we walked? Have we taken a wrong turn? It's as I anticipated. The snow has begun filling in our tracks, and I can no longer be sure we are on the right path. Tiny shards of ice slice at me. Where the devil are we?

Looking around, striving to get my bearings, I see the crenelated outline of Snow Moon Castle, the original one. The recently built manor would be on the other side, up a rise that I don’t know if she will have the strength to climb. I could carry her, but even then it's so far. If I stumble, what will become of her? I can't bear to think about it. I'm not going to let anything happen to her.

“We will take refuge in the old castle,” I say.

“No, I don‘t want to go there." She says, shaking her head.

I look at her. "Merry, we don’t have much choice. The manor is still a good distance away."

“I didn‘t realize we had gone so far." She mumbles.

"My charms distracted you." I say, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughs. It's so good to hear her laugh. “How can you be pompous at a time like this?"

Because I need to distract her again, to give her something to focus on other than our dire circumstances. I push us forward, slogging through the drifts of snow. How could such a fierce storm have come upon us so quickly? I'm more familiar with the weather in the south. I have always heard that the north is brutal, but until now I hadn’t understood what that meant.

By the time we reach the old castle and slump against the stone wall, I realize it's madness to try to get her to the new residence. I have to get her dry and warm. "We have no choice. We are going to stop here."

“We can . . . carry on," she stammers, her teeth chattering with such force I'm surprised they don’t c***k.

“Perhaps we will give it a try after we have warmed up and gathered our strength." I say.

She doesn’t argue as we make our way along the side of the building. I fight the strong gale that wants to smash me into it, into her. As much as possible, I'm trying to shield her from the fury of nature. Finally, I see a door. Reaching out, I close my fingers over the handle, release the latch, and feel relief swamp me when it gives way.

Nearly torn from its hinges by the wind, the wooden door bangs against the wall. I usher her into the kitchen and stagger in after her. Closing the door, I take stock of our surroundings. Although the building has been abandoned, not everything has been taken. There is a stove, a table, a stack of wood. I don‘t think it likely that I will find food, but for now it gives me hope that I have found a shelter from the storm.

“Come along, let’s see what we have got." I tell her.

With Merry in my wake, I stalk down a darkened hallway and then another, a bit of light coming through a window at the end guiding me. Then I walk into what had once been a great hall. The fireplace is massive, the sort where the master of the household might have roasted deer.

I kneel before it, grateful to find more wood, kindling, and matches. I set myself to the task of getting a fire going. It isn‘t long before the flames are blazing, sending out welcomed warmth.

“Oh, th… that‘s l… lovely," she whispers as she moves closer to the fire.

Glancing around, I notice the draperies. They will have to do. I rush across the room, grab a handful of the fabric, and with a sharp tug, bring them down. Dust motes kick up around me, but at least the curtains are dry.

I hurry back over to her and drop them at her feet. “Take off your clothes."

Merry stares at me as though I have gone mad. “I beg your pardon?"

“Yours are damp, mine are drenched. We have to get warm before I lose my senses, and you are truly alone. Body heat is the fastest way. You will have some privacy while I see what else I can find. Wrap those draperies around you."

I make my way through a good portion of the residence, tearing down more moth-eaten draperies. I locate a half-full bottle of rum.

Returning to the great room, I strive to ignore the pile of clothes near the fire and what that signifies. Merry sits on the floor, the draperies pulled in close about her. I fashion a crude pallet with what I have found. Then I hand her the bottle of rum. “Drink this. It will warm you.”

Although not as much as I plan to do. Turning away from her, I begin removing my own clothes. I tear off my jacket, but my fingers are too stiff with the cold to loosen the buttons. I'm going to have to rip.

“Here,” she says, suddenly standing in front of me. The drapery is wrapped around her, gathered in front of her. With just a shrug off her shoulders, it will pool on the floor. “You drink now."

My fingers are so numb I think I might drop the bottle, but I manage to hold on to it and take deep swallows. I'm aware of her fingers working my buttons free.

“I have dreamed of you doing this," I say.

She jerks her gaze up to mine, and I'm surprised that my facial muscles are warm enough to grin.

“Remove my clothes," I explain in case my meaning isn’t clear. "I would have liked to have removed yours, but you seemed rather alarmed by the notion of what I was suggesting."

“It‘s scandalous. I was brought up to avoid scandal at all costs, and yet I seem to find myself slipping into the quagmire of it once again.” She helps me out of my waistcoat, then slowly unravels my neckcloth.

“How long do you think we will be here?” she asks, and I hear the trepidation mirrored in her voice.

I give her a reassuring smile, “Only until the storm passes.”

“That could be days.” She points out.

“Could be years.” I grin.

She grins back at me. I'm grateful for that. “I don’t know where I would be now if you hadn’t gone on the walk with me."

“I doubt you would have stayed out as long if I hadn‘t been serving as a distraction." I admit.

“Probably not." She peels my shirt up over my head. I welcome the warmth from the fire finally dancing over my skin.

“You are like ice," she says.

I nod. “Unfortunately."

“Can you manage your trousers?" She asks.

“If I must." I sigh.

She laughs lightly. “Yes, in this instance I think you must."

Moving away, she sits on the mound of draperies, her back to me. I'm not as cold or shaking as I had been. We probably no longer need the warmth of each other’s bodies. The fire will suffice. But it seems a shame to waste the opportunity of having her so near when it might never come again.