Seclusion by Oroyukae
Once Upon a Snowy Evening
He stood staring down at the small form laying face down in the snow, his sight not too adversely affected by the whiteness that wanted to blind all who bore witness to the furious dance of excitement of the tiny flakes that had decided to fall. His golden eyes narrowed from atop the scarf he had wrapped around his neck and face. Even in all the chaos the winter storm was creating, he could sense her essence, her life force and knew she was not going to survive long out in the bitter, harsh cold temperature. He was struck with indecision as he considered the effects that rendering assistance would have on the reclusive life he had chosen some time ago. He had willingly withdrawn from the world and never once desired the company of another being, content with his isolation and free from all the effects of the outside world beyond the mountain, and it was fine with him. He needed no one.
A strong gust of icy wind burned his eyes with its chill and he closed them until the sensation passed. No one knew he was even there on that mountain and that was how he preferred it to be. To be left alone. He could not help the nagging feeling of pity for the small girl, however, she was injured and she would perish if he left her there to the elements... or the wild life, for that matter. Either way, she was a goner. Just why she was even out in such weather was beyond him; no one would be so foolish to be traveling at such a time. No one but her, apparently.
The mountain that he had made his home loomed at his back, and he glanced up toward the opposite direction, seeing the winding road from which her car had careened into the deep ravine. She was alone - traveling with no one else. He was her only hope for survival and he decided then he would help her; his conscience was already insisting he would not be able to live with the guilt of knowing he had refused to save her out of his selfish desire to remain undiscovered. If only he had not heard the crash echoing upon the wind and piquing his curiosity beyond his tolerance. He rarely ever ventured out in such weather until that night; the nagging feeling that he needed to go out and check on things had forced him to be out there at that moment. Damn it all. As a result he was standing there, his jeans doing little to stop the irritating sting of his near-frozen legs, finding himself debating whether his honor would allow him to just turn and walk away. He growled in annoyance when the voice within him gave him his answer. No.
He bent down and gathered her slight body into his arms and stood, turning toward the mountain he called his home and beginning the long trek back. She seemed to weigh no more than a feather in his arms and it wasn't too encumbering to carry her at all, his boot-clad feet only sinking a mite deeper than they would have if he did not have her with him. When he reached the steep slope he regularly used to get to his secluded and well hidden cabin he called home, however, he had to sling the poor girl over his shoulder in order to safely begin their ascent, taking extra care to not jostle her too much. She did not even make a sound as he shifted her position; not surprising at all.
His steps were strategically placed to eliminate most of the possibility that he could slip as he continued to climb - occasionally grasping a tree or a low-hanging branch for added stability. He did not need to visually see his surroundings to know where he was; he was very familiar with the terrain and knew exactly where he was going. Even the rushing of the wind could not prevent his keen ears from picking up the faint beating of her heart; he kept close track of the sound to monitor her condition while they drew ever-nearer to the desired location. It took longer than he had initially thought it would, but the small cabin appeared and he picked up his pace a bit, sure of his steps then and desiring the warmth of the fireplace to remove the chill from his tall frame.
The first thing he did when he stepped inside his home was take the girl to the sofa and lay her down, turning away from her quickly and beginning to remove his coat and boots, as well as his other winter accessories, tossing them into the chair next to the door. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness inside the structure and he could navigate around the place efficiently, starting a fire first thing, then he put on some water for tea. When the tea was ready, he carried a tray over to the coffee table and set it down, finally taking a long hard look at his 'guest,' and apparent patient. He assessed her injuries through sight and scent, uncomfortable with the reaction he was having to the smell of her blood. It... bothered him in more ways than one. Ways that he immediately pushed to the back of his mind and locked away before he went to another room and retrieved some items necessary to treat the girls' wounds.
He himself did not usually need such supplies, since he healed rather quickly, but there were a few times the items did come in quite handy for more... severe… injuries he incurred from time to time. Once he had the necessary supplies laid out in an orderly fashion upon the table, including a basin of very warm water and several cloths to cleanse her wounds properly, the being pulled his shoulder-length silver hair back, securing it, and rolled up the sleeves on his blue flannel shirt. He sat upon a low footstool beside the sofa and went to work on her, removing her coat and what was left of her gloves and hat. He had already removed her boots and socks, knowing that - in humans - observing the nail beds was helpful in monitoring their medical condition. He wet a cloth, wrung it out, and, with more gentleness that he realized he even possessed, he slowly started to cleanse her face of the blood so he could locate the source and properly tend it. She had bled a lot and he hoped it would not require stitches to close it properly, though the blood did indicate that it was a very good possibility he would have to do just that.
While he worked, he wondered just why the hell he had even done it. Why had he brought her to his home when he never allowed anyone to know he was there on that mountain - going to great lengths to remain undiscovered for the long years he had been there? He had retreated from the world, displeased with the changes from what it once was to what it was at the present. He had tried to tolerate it but, in the end, he preferred the wilderness that surrounded him - unspoiled by the ravages of time and man, for the most part. Now, he was willing to put all that at risk with a simple act of compassion and kindness... very perplexing.
Unfortunately, he did have to stitch her up a bit, since she had a very nasty head wound to account for the large amount of blood he had encountered. She didn't even so much as wince as he did it, taking care to make the stitches small for minimal scarring, and watching her face for any signs of awareness of what he was doing to her. There were none, and he found himself thinking she might be in some sort of coma brought on by her injuries, the head trauma specifically. When he finished stitching her wound closed and cleaning up the fresh blood that was a result of the procedure, he cleared the soiled rags and bandages away, tossing out the bloody water from the basin and proceeding to continue his assessment of the girl.
She had a broken wrist, which he splinted, and some deep contusions that were not going to feel too great if she regained consciousness. When he was satisfied she was properly tended medically, he realized she was in need of dry clothing and went to find something to put on the girl, locating only a flannel shirt and a pair of his boxers. Deciding that it was, more than likely better than what she was wearing, he set to changing her clothes, being very careful of her injuries, and keeping his eyes averted when he had to remove her wet and bloody bra. He refused to retrieve a wash cloth to wash that part of her person to rid it of the blood; it wasn't that much blood, really, hardly a trace stained her skin if his nose was accurate, and it was.
Once she was dressed and covered with a warm afghan, he sat in a chair by the fire and watched her - waiting to see if she would wake up or even move. His golden eyes noted the deep ebony color of her hair gleaming in the flickering dim light from the fire, the orange and red tones of the flames dancing upon the dark background and almost entrancing him with their playful dance. She was young, that he could tell, possibly in her early twenties and more than likely had loved ones that would be looking for her once they realized she was missing. Not what he needed, not at all. Although he was certain that any search would not reveal his presence, he still did not relish the thought of his mountain being invaded by search parties as they wandered here and there looking for her. The only real concern for his remaining undiscovered would be if they brought in search dogs to track her... they would pick up his scent without a doubt. Wonderful. Still, though, her car was not to be easily found, covered with the remnants of the heavy downfall as well as the slide the crash had caused... it would be a while before anyone would be able to even get up the pass to the mountain base. He closed his eyes and noted how tired he was, telling himself he would continue to assess the new situation after some rest.