It was a log cabin, its windows glowing warmly. There was someone waiting there for him, surely. A woman, all snug in that home, dinner simmering on the stove. Or, not dinner, maybe, since it was late, but a hot chocolate or something.
I’d sell my soul for a hot chocolate right now. Anything hot.
I almost laughed. It would be really weird if I laughed right now, wouldn’t it?
At the cabin door, he let me down slowly. Boneless, I collapsed immediately against him.
“Can’t…feel…feet.” My teeth clacked together with each word.
He threw open the door to a madly barking dog, who looked—I squinted—happy. Something clawed at my knee and I looked down. Oh. Two dogs. A big German Shepherd-type creature and, beside it…was that one of those papillons? I blinked. A one-eared papillon.
“Back it up, girls.”
Slowly, I turned to look up at him. “Me?”
“Talking to the dogs.” He turned to them. “Brownie, quit it!”
The big dog stopped jumping on him, moved back a few feet, and sat.
“Bear, down.”
Once Bear—the little one—complied, going to sit next to her companion, he and I went in. He shut the door, enclosing us in quiet—aside from the crackling of a wood stove—and blessed warmth.
“Might wanna…” He lowered his chin toward my feet. “Get that thing off.”
Thing? I glanced down, puzzled, until I realized what he meant. My tights, full of runs, with big holes in them now, choked my toes. I couldn’t feel them.
“Have a seat. I’ll heat up water for a tea.” He paused. “Get you something to put on.”
I nodded, swayed, put a hand out, and caught myself on the door. Oh. Boneless.
“I can’t…” I peered at the sofa. I mean, the place was tiny, so it wasn’t far, but it looked miles away. I tried a step, but it sent shooting pain up my foot and I was much, much too tired. Or something more than that—beyond pain and exhaustion, into some kind of otherness.
I sank to my butt, right there, against the door.
My savior walked back into the room with a few folded-up items, and stopped when he saw me. “Bath?”
I shook my head. “Pro’ly drown.”
“Okay. Well, um. Here.” Slowly, he drew close, like he might approach a wild animal. He set a pile of neatly-folded fabric beside me, picked up one item—a soft plaid blanket—and put it over me, then handed me the telephone he’d stuck in his back pocket. “Call whoever you need to.”
I stared at the phone, suddenly unsure of who I should reach out to. Granny Evans, definitely, since she’d start worrying eventually.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“’Bout nine thirty.”
I blinked. “You’re kidding.” What time had I left the party? Eight, I’d thought. Maybe eight thirty?
Something else occurred to me. “How’d you find me?”
“Opened the door to let the dogs out. Heard you skid off the road. Took me a while to find you.”
Something broke loose inside my chest and I couldn’t keep my head up. With an audible thunk, my forehead hit my knees. I was shaking, only not from the cold this time.
Was I crying? I turned my head, wiped my face and stared at my palm. Definitely wet.
How did I not know what my body was doing?
