Cabin Fever

❄ 2: Finn ❄

Though the inside of his cabin was toasty, Finn shivered at the incessant howling of the wind battering against his shelter. Walking over to the window, he brushed back the curtains, grimacing at the sudden blizzard that had swept through the area.

The radio predicted some snowfall, but this deluge was far beyond "a couple inches at most".

At least it had gotten here the day after he had completed the last of his "holiday" shopping. It was going to be at least a week before things went back to normal, so he had stocked up on groceries to get him through New Year's. It was odd to think that something that once had brought him so much joy was now little more an inconvenience that he planned to just hunker down alone in his cabin to weather.

He let out an annoyed huff before dropping the curtain. It was chilly outside, and he needed to keep in the heat as much as possible. As he settled back into his armchair, though, he paused. Was there just something in the wind? A voice calling for help? He tilts his head and — there, again.

He was certain he heard it this time.

Quickly pulling on his boots, he set out into the snow and cold to investigate. He caught the faint whiff of a scent in the wind and it set him on edge at the way his inner beast perked up.

He recognized it but he could not place from where. His nose leading the way, he followed the wisps of scent picked up by the turbulent weather. Then — out of the corner of his eye — a flash of red in the snow. A scarf laid stark against a white background and just beyond it, a woman lying in the snow. She let out a soft sob as he approached before he saw her body go lax.

He did not recognize the woman before him, but his beast did. This woman was his mate. He reeled away from her with the same vehement ferocity as he wanted to grab her and claim her. Unsure of how to proceed, he stood glaring at her lifeless form.

How dare she show up here to interrupt his solitude just when he was beginning to make progress?

Her body trembled weakly, and he set aside his qualms. He had to get her inside and warm. In a single quick movement, he bent and scooped her off the ground. She shivered in his arms, leaning into his warmth, and he felt an ache in his chest.

His mate was dying, and he was thinking what an inconvenience her presence was.

He grit his teeth as he quickened his pace, swinging her through the threshold and kicking the door shut behind him. He set her in his armchair next to the fire as he removed her layers and inspected her for frostbite.

It appalled him to see her fingers exposed without coverings, but he was grateful to see that while they were icicles to the touch and concerningly white, there were no spots of frostbite. He checked her ears and the tip of her nose, tossing aside the articles of clothing as he peeled them off.

Once he had all the damp layers removed, she was wearing only a tank top and her underwear, which he would not, for the sake of respecting her privacy, remove. She was grossly under prepared for this weather and he was surprised to find that beneath all the layers that she was, at least on the outside, relatively unharmed.

Now he would just need to keep her that way. Grabbing a throw from the back of the chair, he wrapped her in it and began rubbing the feeling back into her limbs.

He started with her toes as her shoes and socks had been soaked and frozen through and once they had some good color back in them, he moved to her fingers. He longed to take the time to study each of her features, to understand every inch of skin — every freckle and curve that made up his mate, but his first concern was getting her safe.