The light flickering ahead could mean salvation or death. But the present snow and the darkness were a more certain death so Eric pressed on, chasing that little flicker in the darkness with his last bit of strength.
A helicopter touching down in the wilderness was a rare enough occurrence that, even though it was long gone, Paul had marked its location and set out to investigate. He found the circle in the snow left by its landing, a large deeper dent in the snow where it appeared something or someone had been dumped, and tracks looking like they were dragged off after the chopper left.
No extra prints marred the snow, so whatever was dumped moved under its own power. A someone then. But they must be hurt to be dragging themselves in such a way. It was getting dark and the Arctic wilderness wasn't friendly at night, but they couldn't have gone far in that condition so Paul gave the command to his dogs to follow the tracks.
Meanwhile, Eric had heard that dying of hypothermia felt like falling asleep. That the victim even felt warm at the end. The bastard that tossed him out of the helicopter had told him as much. This was supposedly his merciful death. Ambitious campers got lost and died of hypothermia in the arctic wilderness every year. He'd be one more nameless idiot found in the spring if they ever found him. There would be no one to look for him on purpose and the wilderness was vast for stumbling upon.
He'd thought he'd finally found a man to love him and a family. They even went on a trip to Alaska to celebrate their engagement. But it was all a sham. It hurt too much to even think about. He supposed death by hypothermia was merciful. No more emotional devastation to work through. He remembered the cold and the darkness, a light flickering in the distance, and then nothing as he'd fallen asleep. He even felt warm and cozy now. But...why did it feel like he was waking up? That wasn't part of dying.
Paul had to make a decision when he returned to the cabin with the half-dead carcass of a boy in his sled. Normally he'd radio the rangers and they'd fetch the boy ASAP, but the helicopter that dropped him clearly left him to die and Paul hadn't got a near enough view of it to be sure it wasn't the ranger's chopper.
Not that he had reason to suspect the rangers, but he was deeply suspicious of everyone in every way. He knew it was unreasonable. But it seemed he couldn't get over the trauma caused by his step-mother and her family. As the oldest son by the president's first wife, and an alpha, he was a target from the moment he was born and laid in his dying mother's arms. By the time his father's second wife was done "raising" him he had no desire left to follow his father's footsteps or inherit anything. That's why he moved to the middle of nowhere. It was easier to isolate than to worry all the time.
But what to do with the half-frozen boy. He was breathing but cold to the core. Slowly raising his temperature was the first step. He stripped the boy to his underwear and tucked him into his own bed, then beefed up the fire, fed the dogs, and sent them up to cuddle around the boy in his bed.
There wasn't much to keep him up late most nights, especially in early October when the nights were getting longer and even humans tended to shift into semi-hibernation. Sometimes he felt too rested, which was beautiful after an upbringing where he was deliberately kept on edge at all times, so it was nothing to keep watch through one long night.
He used more fuel than normal heating and lighting the house, but he was well supplied. His last scheduled contact with the outside world for the year was past and there was only a peaceful winter in his view when the distant sound of a helicopter marred the silence of the previous day.
The boy stirred in the early hours of the morning and Paul breathed a little easier after that. He'd been afraid that he was comatose and not just sleeping. Paul refreshed his memory on treating hypothermia and frostbite and started preparing for the next steps and a new day. He had to go out and check his trap line at some point and there was work to do in the barn.
Through his sleepy haze, Eric thought he heard a lot of shuffling about and a door open and close. The weight holding his body down shifted and he realized he wasn't paralyzed, only pinned in place by a bizarrely shaped monster. He was afraid to open his eyes. The door opened again and a whistle called the monster off. Eric dared to peek and might have breathed a sigh of relief that the monster was actually a heap of fluffy dogs, except that he was also terrified of dogs.
So, he wasn't dead, but he had somehow landed in the middle of a wolf pack. Wait, wolves couldn't whistle, right? He glanced around. They couldn't use a wood stove or pots and pans either. The little cabin was definitely built for a human occupant.
Paul saw the occupant of his bed shift and flip over quickly to face the wall as he shuffled back into his tiny cabin. He kicked the snow off his boots in the entry and shuffled over to feed the stove. Then, he pulled a lever above it and went behind a curtain in the back corner. The sound of running water reached Eric's ears and they perked up. A bath sounded like heaven right now, but there's no way this mountain man had a real tub out here. Still, after getting dumped in the wilderness and sleeping with dogs, any means of cleaning up appealed.
The water stopped and Paul came back out to push the lever over the wood stove back. Eric pretended to sleep but listened carefully, still unsure whether he was saved or in new danger. The weight of someone sitting on the bed next to him startled him and he turned in alarm.
"Please tell me you speak English," Paul mumbled as he tried to ascertain the condition of the boy. "Oh crap," he added when he smelled the sweet scent of jasmine behind the pungent body odor he expected. "Of course you're an omega." He'd been too cold to emit any pheromones before. Paul shook his head at the irony. Of all the people who might land in his wilderness hideout with him, an omega was the least desirable. His peaceful winter was shot to hell now.
The boy cowered in the bed when Paul said that. Eric could smell the warm woodsy scent of the alpha sitting next to him and as appealing as it might normally be, he understood the danger. He had no suppressants with him. An alpha living alone in the middle of nowhere probably didn't have any either. Winter was coming and while helicopters could obviously reach this remote location, the last one flew two hours before arriving and the pilot complained the whole way. Besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to be found right now. To top it off, his host didn't seem to think highly of the situation either.
Paul's light caramel-colored irises slowly dilated as he stared intently at the boy. Eric wanted to respond to the scrutiny but his throat had closed up with anxiety when he realized their predicament. Before he could regain his composure he started shaking uncontrollably. A large warm hand reached out and touched his forehead.
"As I thought. Do you feel cold?" Paul asked. Eric shook his head. It felt like intense shivering but without a sense of being cold.
"Don't panic," Paul warned. "I need to check your body for frostbite and then I want to warm you up more in the bath. You have to be warmed slowly and the dogs were good for that. But you're not fully warm yet. I don't want to stick you in a bath suddenly if you have frostbite. Is that okay?" He was being super cautious, afraid he'd injure the boy further if he had to fight or restrain him to help him. Eric nodded.
Slowly, Paul peeled back the blankets and inspected Eric's fingers and toes. "Your nose was okay so I thought the rest of you was probably okay, but I needed to check. I'm going to lift you up now," and with only that little warning Paul scooped the still shivering boy up in his arms and carried him behind the curtain that separated his bathroom from the rest of the cabin.
It was relatively primitive, with a composting toilet and vintage copper plumbing that piped water through the wood stove to heat it in a manner once used by aristocrats who managed to get indoor plumbing before gas or electricity was piped to their homes. Sometimes technology abandoned by the masses was still relevant for the isolated. But there was a big clawfoot tub back there and Eric could see steam coming off it. It was so beautiful he wanted to cry. "How?" Was all he managed.
"Just because I don't like to be around people," Paul answered, "doesn't mean I dislike comfort." He slowly lowered Eric into the water, not bothering to remove his underwear. It probably needed washing anyway and he appreciated that he wasn't entirely naked in front of the alpha. The water felt scalding and his skin prickled and burned. Paul watched the boy's reaction closely. The water only looked steamy because this part of the cabin was cold. He'd pushed the curtain wide to let the area heat up more before settling the boy in the water.
Before his behind touched the bottom of the tub Eric's eyes went wide with alarm. "Ha ha hot!" He managed to pant.
"Not hot," Paul assured him. "You're too cold. It won't hurt you. Let the heat soak in and you'll feel better. You're still shaking." The tub was only half full, but it covered most of the boy's body. When he stopped fidgeting and let his body become fully submerged Paul added a little more hot water. He continued to do so bit by bit as Eric adapted, stopping to take his temperature at regular intervals. Eventually, Eric's shivering stopped and he started to feel cold. Then, he felt warm again and eventually a toasty glow shone on his face and Paul knew he must be feeling better.
"Are you strong enough to get dressed on your own if I help you out?" Paul asked. Eric tested his strength and found he could so he nodded. Paul reached into the tub and helped the boy to get out. He handed him a toasty warm bathrobe and told him to toss his wet underwear back in the tub and he'd do laundry with the used water in a bit.
The warmth of the overheated cabin had fully invaded the bathroom nook so closing the curtain again was fine. Eric appreciated the privacy as he struggled to remove his wet underwear and dry off. The oversized robe enveloped him in new warmth after the brief loss of heat from getting out of the water. When he stepped out from behind the curtain his host was finishing changing his bedsheets.
"Climb right back inside now," he urged. "I'll bring you some food next." Eric complied. He had no idea what to say so he said nothing. His host seemed to know what he was doing and he wasn't dead so he could only continue to accept directions. He heard the squishy sound of the dirty sheets getting pushed into the bathwater and then his host re-emerged to stir something in a pot on the little wood stove. From the pot, he dished out two bowls of what looked like meat stew with big potato chunks.
"It's caribou," Paul explained, "so it might taste a bit weird to you." He pulled two rolls of bread out of a basket on the nearby kitchen counter and stuck them in the bowls atop the stew, then fished two spoons out of a drawer and settled everything on a tray he set on the bed.
"Thank you," Eric whispered as he picked up his spoon. He was warm and he was whole and suddenly he felt shy. Paul smiled at him for the first time and that didn't help the situation. Eric found he now had enough heat in his body to blush.
"You're welcome," Paul answered almost as quietly and it felt genuine. The boy was welcome. He was disrupting everything, but somehow he didn't trigger Paul's paranoia. The omega had been left for dead. What could he possibly do to harm Paul? There was nothing.