Page 4 of Kian

She walked up the steps and opened the door before returning to him. She gently patted his cheeks again, hoping for any sign of consciousness.

“Sir!” she called out loudly, but there was no response. “Damn it,” she cursed.

Standing over him, she took a deep breath before lightly slapping his face. He groaned in response.

“Sir, please. I need to get you inside. You have to help me,” she pleaded.

He stirred slightly but winced, likely in pain and with a headache from the wound on his head. She’d check on that once she got him inside. Placing her hand on his chest, she gently shook him.

“Please, just help me,” she repeated, shaking him again. “Wake up!” she shouted as she slapped his face hard, relieved when he finally opened his eyes. His pupils were dilated, and she was sure he had a concussion.

“Oh, thank God.” She sighed in relief.

“Am I dead?” he mumbled quietly, but she still heard him.

“No, but you will be if you don’t help me get you into my cabin.”

“Cabin? Where am I?” he asked as he tried to sit up, wincingin pain before lying back down. She stepped over him and leaned closer to him.

“I’ll explain everything once we’re inside. But right now, I need your help to get you there,” she said through gritted teeth. “Help me,” she shouted.

He gingerly touched his head. “Damn woman, don’t yell. My head is killing me.”

“Can you sit up? I’ll help you, but there are three steps we need to climb to get inside.” His teeth were chattering violently.

“I can barely feel my fingers and toes.”

“That’s why I’m trying to get you indoors.”

He nodded weakly. “Okay.”

With effort, he started to pull his right arm out from under the blankets but hissed in a breath. That’s when she noticed that the blood on his shirt started oozing. She slowly pulled his shirt aside to look at the wound.

“Try using your left hand. You have a wound on your right shoulder.”

He nodded and slowly sat upright. When he moved to push himself up, he groaned.

“Oh, my God. It looks like a gunshot.” She had thought the blood on his shirt was from the wound by his temple. She knew head wounds bled more, so she just assumed that’s where it was from.Never assume!She supported him as they made their way to the steps.

“Wait... I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned, sitting down on one of the steps.

“Just take deep breaths,” she instructed, rubbing his back for a few minutes. “Are you ready?”

“I... I think so.” Gretchen wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him stand. He was significantly taller than her five-foot-six frame, by almost a foot. They finally reached the door. She pushed it open and led him to the sleeping bag on the floor.

Gently lowering him onto the floor next to it, she left momentarily to put away the toboggan before returning to the cabin. After returning, she put her rifle away and began removing her outerwear. She hung them up before entering the living room to find that he hadn’t moved, still shivering uncontrollably. She put a few more logs on the fire, then turned back toward him... and groaned. She needed to get him out of those wet clothes, but it was going to be awkward.

“You’re thirty-seven years old. You’ve seen a naked man before.” Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she approached him and knelt next to him, beginning by removing his boots and wet socks. Peeling off his shirt proved to be difficult; the blood had soaked into the fabric, freezing it in place.

“I’ll clean your wounds after I get these wet clothes off you,” she promised as she gently leaned him forward against her chest. That’s when she noticed the wound on his back and realized that the shot had been through and through, but it was no longer bleeding out the back. “Was that what those gunshots were I heard earlier?” Gretchen murmured, glancing at the graze above his temple. “Who was after you? I hope you’re not a bad person.”

When she moved her hand around the back of his head, to find where it was bleeding from, her hand came away covered in blood.

“Oh, my God!” She leaned his head forward and gently touched where the blood was coming from and felt a gash. She let him lay back down, slowly. That would definitely cause a headache.

She finally managed to remove his shirt but placed it on the sleeping bag to absorb any more blood from his head. Then she laid him down carefully on the floor. As she examined his jeans, she knew she had to get them off to get him warmed up.

“I apologize in advance... but I need to take off your jeans.Hopefully your underwear isn’t wet,” she said with a tinge of doubt, knowing that his jeans were completely soaked, and anything under them would be too. “Shit.”

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