but what the hell, all it does is storm but not in the right way.”
Forty-five - Kaitlyn
The storm lasted all the next day. Snow drifted. Magnus shoveled it up into a wall around us to protect our tent from the wind. The air was cold, but our tent kept in our heat, our sleeping bags were warm enough. I didn’t need to get out. We used the camp stove to cook the last of the rations. Magnus worked outside a little, checking the horses and our site.
We wore our parkas even in the tent and wrapped in wool blankets. Midday we went for a walk to check the area, not going too far, just enough to get the blood flowing, for the excitement of it all. Then we rushed back into the warmth of the tent.
Bored, we climbed into the sleeping bags pulled them up to our our ears, and faced each other, inches apart. Shifting shapes on the outside of the tent fabric, filtered, dappled, blue-gray light on our faces. Under the covers was warm and close, our legs entangled. Out of the covers, the tops of our mussed hair sticking up, wild, we were both outside and inside at once, hot and cold, and in our cocoon we whispered for some reason. The muffled snow bringing our words close to our ears. And we laughed at things we said. The breaths of chuckles were like balms for our hearts and souls. We were safe. And with safety came hope. And I loved him so much. The crinkle beside his eye, the growth of his beard, the smile for me.
We whiled away the rest of the day talking about little things. Telling stories about our pasts, alone and together. And we reminded each other about things we loved and missed.
When the wind rose and buffeted our walls we quieted and listened. Magnus said, “Och, our walls are tenuous at best.”
“But also tenacious.”
“What does it...?”
“Like they might not be the best, but they will try.”
“Tis all we can expect.”
We kissed, and snuggled under the covers more. Our tent was an enclosed space, full of warmth and love, but so small, so very isolated, alone in the desolate wilds of the long ago past enduring a winter storm. Thank God for its tenacity.
By the next night it stopped storming.
I wrote in my journal.
We had cuddled in bed most of the day and now another night lay before us. I said, “Will we be stuck in the tent most of the day tomorrow, too?”
“Nae, tomorrow we need tae get up early and move camp. I was thinkin’ though, we should move closer tae the clearing. I want tae check it for a message.”
“Okay, first thing.”
Forty-six - Kaitlyn
We rose at dawn and packed the tent and gear on the horses. The weather was good, but the snow was deep. It was difficult to maneuver through. We wound our way up the hill and then Magnus, using the binoculars, checked behind us. He held up a hand telling me to be quiet. After a few moments, I whispered, “What do you see?”
“Men are in our campsite, Kaitlyn.” He flicked his finger toward a stand of trees. “Hide behind the trees there. Hold Hurley quiet. Pull yer gun.”
I gulped, nodded that I understood, and directed Hurley to the trees, trying to hide within their shadows.
Magnus retraced our steps for a distance, then climbed off Cynric and brushed our tracks away. He mounted him again and rode the opposite way for a few yards so he was in full view of the men below. He waved his arms, and yelled, “Hie!”
He turned Cynric and rode higher up on the hill, then dropped from his horse behind a rock, pulled his rifle, and waited.
I dropped from Hurley, and waited too, with my gun pulled, settled on a branch on the tree, aiming. I tried to be as still as I could be, holding the reins in the bend of my knee, watching the trail. I prayed they would pass me, and then they did, right past, quick, climbing the mountain, heading right for Magnus. I knew not to fire. I didn’t want anyone to come after me. I wasn’t a sure enough shot, not from a distance, but I could maybe shoot someone before they got to me. So I waited, tried to calm myself, and watched.
Until the men were closer to Magnus than me, and Magnus fired, the sound ringing out across the mountains, a shot