survival

dead reckoning

"Power is not given to you. You have to take it." -Beyonce Knowles-Carter

"Little Fish," I called, looking around the barren land we lived in. All I could see was ice, snow, rocks, and death. Abandon. I sighed, shaking my head, snuggling into the seal skin and bright white fur coat I usually adorned. I frowned. Where had that girl gone? I swear she was just as slippery as her name sake. "Little Fish! Aya, where have you gone?" I spoke aloud to myself.

I huffed, searching all around the area for the small girl. That's when I saw her, standing near a rock outcrop and looking down. Oh, she was always escaping me. I called for her again, her small frame turning. "Sister, come quick!" She called for me. I nodded, brows furrowed. She didn't speak a lick of English and while I was proudly fluent, I also had learned their language. I used to know dialects of Cree but my time in the freezing North might have dulled my tongue.

"What is it?" I asked her. I stalled a bit, eyes wide as there laid a large man in front of her. "Little Fish, what's happened?"

"He came from the sea," she explained. I sighed, shaking my head. I looked around, not spying a single boat, person, or indication of where the man had come from. If I wanted to, I could easily track him, but what good would that do? The man wore breeches and a tunic, blood staining the clothes he wore and from what I saw, matted his hair.

"He's hurt," I frowned. "We've got to get him home."

"He's too big," she reminded me, looking at me rather blankly.

I nodded once more. The wind was biting, the cold enough to sink into your bones with no mercy. I crouched beside him, the snow pillowing his form. He was large and I knew no matter what, we'd not be able to haul him. No, he'd have to walk if he could. I shook his shoulder, his skin cool under his shirt already. He needed warmth, this was no place to die.

"Wake up," I called. I shook his shoulder more, reaching out and sweeping the hair from his face. "Wake up!" He released a long groan, his eyes flickering under his lids. I took note of the scar across his eyebrow, trying not to think over whatever could have caused it. "Wake up, we're here to help you. We have fire, warmth, food. Shelter, too. Come now, wake!"

"Help......me......" He moaned in English, heaving for breath.

"You speak English?" I asked in the same tongue.

"Yes," He seemed nearly drunk but he probably lost too much blood. So much, in fact, it's left him delirious. "I n-need....need help."

"I know and that's why I'm here," I spoke soothingly. "But, sir, with all due respect, you're too large for me to carry. If I can help you, can you walk under my arm to our home? We're not too far."

He was still breathing, eyes rolling around a bit as he looked like he was struggling to remain conscious. He took a second. "Yes," he heaved. "Please."

"It's okay, you're going to be okay. Just walk with me and I'll get you sorted, yeah?" I moved, helping him roll over. When on his back, he kept his eyes closed as he regained his breath. And in this position, his entire face was revealed to me. His hair splayed out around him angelically and I was a bit taken back by how attractive he was. And suddenly, I wondered just why he was all the way up here.

He gripped onto my arms, both of our hands locking onto each other's elbows. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Don't thank me yet, thank me when you wake with no fever or infection," I chuckled. "Ready? On three, I need you to push yourself up, yeah?" He nodded. I sighed and readjusted my grip. "Okay. One....two.....three!" And on three, I pulled him up as he helped push himself onto his feet.