Snowy Relations [Juno + Hiro_]

A chaotic symphony reverberated throughout the evening air, the sky filling with a gray void that spoke silently of despair and anguish. The haughty wind whipped throughout ancient trees warning all those who sought to oppose the inevitable storm that they would simply be no match. As the wind howled out with anger a lone figure could be seen trekking quickly through the winding trees. Clothed heavily in the furs of previous hunt’s the person seemed to be well prepared for what lay ahead. Beside this furred person was a companion, barely visible over the previous settled snow from days long past. The snow fox's mane blending in as it moved several paces ahead of its master.

Another day of hunting in which they both drew up empty handed. The master was sure that their already dwindling supply of meat would not hold them for much longer than a couple more days.

Feet before them was their home. If one could call it such. The home seemed more like a shack, or perhaps this was only the case because of its chipping paint and what looked to be rotted wood. Though it looked decrepit and rather shoddy it was, however; sturdy and would hold through just about any storm. Quickly, the person whom seemed to drown in heavy fur moved towards the shack, both the fox and the person shoving their way through the door as if both were being chased by rabid bears.

The harsh cold clung to the person’s pores, lingering angrily between his thighs, upon his cheeks and on the tips of his ears. Each piece of fur was removed and then placed with care in an area that looked much like a fur lined futon. The now identified man clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a tsking noise as he began to prepare them both their meals for the evening.

The fox’s curious gaze settled in on the man as if he could sense the male’s growing worry. Turning slightly the man must have noticed this for he bent low and offered the fox a piece of raw meat he had laid out upon the table earlier in the day. “Things will be alright Ludvig we’ll hunt in the ‘morrow at dawn.” At least that is what he had hoped; Anders gave his companion an assuring smile and went back to tending to their meals for the night eventually moving to build up the dying embers in the hearth unaware of what the near future held.

"Is this far enough?"

Those were the last words he remembered hearing before succumbing to the blissful darkness that was unconsciousness. Of course, he had been terrified that the savages would take advantage of his immobile state and attempt to hack him into bloody pieces that they could feed to their dogs. Though, a larger, more rational part of him knew that they couldn't hurt him unless they knew what he knew. No one knew what he knew. It was the only reason he had survived for all these centuries. The twisted side of him had to commend them for their efforts of getting rid of him. To bring him here of all places was certainly a step other men would not have undertaken. He hadn't planned on it and he certainly hadn't planned on passing out for the second time.

When he had awoken, he had been alone. Any and all signs that the men might have been there were erased by layers of freshly fallen snow, most of which he lay buried under. He had jerked up with a start, only then becoming aware of just how cold and weak he felt. The storm had been something to remember, terrifying and unforgivable. Strong gusts of wind had whipped his fine, golden hair about his pale face as he trekked on to some unknown destination. He hadn't been able to see more than a few feet ahead of him, the snow was absolutely vicious in its onslaught. It was almost kind of ironic, how the elements were now turning against him. He had laughed, then, a bitter and utterly defeated laugh before the weakness gave in.

He had fallen forward with a agonized groan, his lips blue and numb from the cold. It took but a few moments for him to realize that this cold blanket would quite possibly become his new home. He couldn't move and before long, he slipped back into a merciful coma of sorts. His body might have had to endure the worst of it but at least his mind was free. For now.

While the cold, motionless body lay at the mercy of the elements, the storm raged on. The male would lie there the entire night unconscious and unaware. What lay in store for him was up for the fates to decide.

Anders sat upon the furs he had collected over the years, his legs bent so that his feet almost lay sole to sole. Arms bent with his chin resting in his hands, he was thinking, contemplating. His hair swallowed his shoulders, the dark strands falling about him like a waterfall of ink. A fur sat puddled around his bare hips, his body in the nude, it was how he liked to sleep.

The hearths soft glow gave off weak warmth, and goose bumps began forming upon his flesh in which he moved a hand to hush up. He was mapping out their future route, contemplating on where the herds might have been moving. It seemed that in recent years they had started becoming wiser and began to switch routes yearly making it harder for him to hunt during the winter season.

The storms harsh embrace had long since passed and only silence lay heavy in the cabin. The dying ember’s crackle the only sound which was to say it was no comfort at all. Anders glanced to the puny pile of wood off to the hearths side. He’d have to collect more wood later.

Dawn.

Its eventual creep moved slowly upon the lands, as he began preparing himself and his companion for travel. With the recent snowfall it would be much deeper than previously. Wrapping extra fur around his heavy leather boots he tied them fast with leather straps before dawning more furs around his upper and lower body areas. His base clothing was of thick leather fashioned from past kills, pants and a long sleeved top with a hemp shirt that rested on top. Gearing up he pulled the last slabs of raw meat off the table’s surface and fed them to Ludvig. The fox would need the substance for he’d be doing most of the work.

After Ludvig finished his meal with a light sneeze Anders gave a light chuckle before beckoning the other on. “Come now, time to get dinner.” It was as if he held a new strength as they began to trek through the snow. Seemed to be about 4 or so feet laying across the land, much easier to hunt in for tracks would be much easier to spot.
They had been traveling for a short time before Ludvig took off in a sprint with Anders following close behind.

Ludvig caught the scent of something, or perhaps he caught sight of something interesting. Anders wouldn’t put it past the fox to run off to play with some defenseless creature. That was until Ludvig’s nose began to nuzzle snow off of something that looked like spun gold. The fox’s paws uncovering the, what Anders now knew to be human, body from the snowy death trap.

Anders did not feel compelled to help the person, nor felt a need of urgency for he assumed the person to be dead. With caution, though, he moved closer flipping the deadly pale body over checking the, what he now identified as a man, male over. Was he even alive? The blue of the man’s lips told Anders no.

[Pardon the short. Isn't much he can do in his sickly state. ;/]

It took a considerable amount of time for him to come around. The feel of hands touching his thin body was slowly but surely pulling him out and away from the comfort his dream-like state provided. He wouldn't be able to remember what he had been dreaming. No, he wouldn't be able to remember much at all, if anything. All the same, he did everything within his power to refrain from awakening. He didn't want to abandon the dark for the cold, unrelenting cruelty of reality. And it was so very cold. Despite his best efforts, he knew he was at a disadvantage and would have to wake up now.

His eyes opened slowly and it took several moments for him to adjust to the light of this new world. When finally he seemed to regain some focus, his gaze zeroed in on the figure of a man above him. What happened next would have surprised even the most resilient of men. While he appeared to be on the brink of death, he moved with lightning swiftness and locked his long, icy fingers around the man's throat, squeezing hard enough to threaten but not quite hard enough to inflict any real harm. There was a distinct flash of fury in his darkening blue eyes as he slowly sat up, pausing mere centimeters away to whisper against this stranger's lips.

"You won't hurt me," he spoke in a whisper. There was a finality to this statement that when coupled with the look of angered determination in his gaze spoke volumes. He remained that way for a moment or two before collapsing back into the snowy ground without warning. It seemed as though fainting away had become a habit.

[Its good. As you can see it was well more than enough to write off of]

Anders eyes widen in shock as the male’s eyes shot open, he thought the man to be dead, but what shocked him more was the fact that the man still had enough strength and energy in him after a storm like that to actually be able to do anything. He found it hard to react to the other, his hand twitching several times in anticipation. While Ludvig was ready to attack at a moment’s notice, in his eyes this man was threatening his m aster and the fox would not tolerate it. Fur bristled as a growl filled the cold winter air. Anders lifted a hand to silence Ludvig.

Gazing into the man’s eyes there was sternness there, a will that did not want to be wavered. As the man passed out and his body fell to the snow below Anders stayed knelt beside him. He took a moment to contemplate whether or not he was to help this man. His eyes turning to Ludvig, “Do we help him or leave him?” There was an unsure nervousness within his voice that he was sure the Fox picked up on for it was obvious the other thought he should help. Ludvig’s white nuzzle pressing beneath the limp wrist of the other as he whined faintly.

“Alright then.” Anders whispered softly as he bent forward to pick up the other; however, he took his time in his task. Taking this time to survey the other more carefully. Larger, work calloused hands moved along the others form, mostly they traced the males jaw, turning his head to the side to check for trauma and then to inspect his features. Anders thought faintly about how attractive the others hair colour was like freshly spun gold thread. Calloused fingers ran through the strands a moment before moving further along the others body, turning his head once more to inspect his neck. He even picked up and inspected the others arms and checked around his chest and part of his legs. There was no blood, not wounds, no bruises to indicate battery… Anders began to wander how he came to be there.

He laid the other back upon the snow and moved to his upper body unwrapping a layer of fur before moving to wrap it around the man. Directly after he picked the other up in a bridle style, throwing him up a bit to make sure he was situated right. Who was this man? “Come Ludvig, we must tend to our… guest.” His voice trailed as he looked at the slumbering man a moment before making his way back to his home. He supposed the who and what were of no continence, it was of the how that he was curious about the most… How had he come to be there?

As Ludvig and Anders entered their home together it became a fairly quick and easy task to begin to prepare a place for their visitor, not that Ludvig was much help. After a half hour or so Anders had made a bigger bed with furs he had stored for when the ones he had worn thin. Something he was reluctant about but he could always garner more at a later date, he hoped. Refusing to use too many he supposed one night of sharing a bed with the stranger would not be too much of an inconvenience and so then it was a matter of waiting as he covered the man with several large pelts.

“Watch him Ludvig, carefully… I must hunt.”

He was hesitant to leave Ludvig with an unknown person but with the man’s condition there shouldn’t be much harm. As he placed on another pelt he readied himself for a single hunt… something he hadn’t had to do since he had found Ludvig many years before and without another thought he left.

This time around, it took him much longer to awaken. Perhaps it had something to do with that strange, reoccurring dream. He was almost certain that he had dreamt it at least two times before. There was an endless body of water. It was the ocean to end all oceans. No land was in sight and everywhere he looked was the unmistakable blue beauty of life. Water indeed was life and yet, he knew that for him, it served an entirely different purpose and when his pale blue gaze lowered, the ocean would be full of cold, dead bodies, lying motionless as the current washed them this way and that.

He was floating...floating among them. Floating among the dead and he was smiling... Why? Why did he smile when there was so much death around him? He didn't think he liked this dream very much and yet, he knew he belonged. This was where he was supposed to be and waking up would only mean forgetting what he was. Who he was. But there was no fighting it. The battle with consciousness was always one-sided. He simply could not win.

He stirred, eyelids fluttering repeatedly as he struggled to open his eyes. Everything about him felt agonizingly heavy but he was vaguely aware that he was somewhere warm. Quite warm and quite comfortable, enough for him to want to keep his eyes closed and attempt to slip back into another deep sleep. Though, he supposed he wouldn't be able to manage for some time.

When he finally managed to open his eyes, he was immediately greeted with the knowledge that he had no idea where he was and how he had gotten there. It took several moments of him darting his worried gaze about for him to realize just why he felt so heavy. Several large pelts were covering his thin form in an obvious attempt to keep him warm. Even in his confused state of mind, he could recognize this gesture as an act of kindness.

Any and all attempts to rise proved futile as he barely had the strength to curl and uncurl his fingers. It took a good bit of struggling for him to muster up the willpower to turn his head to the side and he was rather sorry he had. Upon spotting the damned beast, he gave a yelp of fear and made several unsuccessful attempts at backing away. Understanding that it was no good, he drew his thin brows together in a frown in an attempt to appear threatening. Whether or not he succeeded was yet to be seen.

"You stay away you damnable creature," he hissed in a pained voice, his throat feeling dry beyond all belief, "I have not enough meat to satisfy your hunger. Leave me be." Whether this was an order or a plea, he didn't know but it would have been clear to anyone within earshot that he was quite delirious.

Ludvig’s ear twitched slightly, it had been hours since his Master had left and he had decided since it seemed as if the other was not to wake that there was no need to stay up him. Deciding instead to take a little “cat” nap, mostly out of pure boredom; however, he was just rudely interrupted. The white creature stood his back paw’s supporting him as his front stretched before him, much like a cat though he was not one. His tongue lapped at his mouth and he stared lazily at the man who had just awoken rather loudly.

Turning around he’d pay no heed to the other not deeming him much of a threat and instead moved over to a carved bowl, taking a few laps of water to quench his thirst. If Ludvig could talk I suppose he would say something along the lines of, “Where’s master?” But he cannot and so he only looked bored and confused. Moving back towards the odd creature that his Master brought back he came within three feet of the other and simply sat there. His head tilted as if he was curious about something but had no way to explain as such.


Anders laid low, his breathing hushed as he pulled back the twine of his bow so very slowly. He watched, he waited. The surge of adrenalin rushed through him as he narrowed his eyes slightly. One shot was all that he’d need, one shot was all he would take. He breathed in. There! With the release of his breath he released his arrow. Thunk…! Right on the mark! He chuckled softly to himself happy about his newest achievement.

Lynx were known for their meat, and their fur wasn’t bad to boot. He began to pack up his bow while moving towards his kill; this would feed them for a while before he’d have to hunt again. As he moved closer to the kill he looked around wary of his surroundings. He was in cat country now and no doubt one had seen him slaughter their brethren. He’d have to be extra careful from her on. Stuffing the bloody head of the creature into a leather bag he had fashioned long ago he tied it tightly before tossing the cat over his shoulder. His hand moved to his boot as he pulled out a knife, making sure to have it in hand should he need to use it. And thus he began his long trek home.

Perhaps it had been an hour, or perhaps longer. He was not sure but after some time maneuvering through the snowy fields he came upon his shabby home. Readjusting his kill so it would not slip he gave a slight grunt before pressing his lips in a slight ‘O’ shape and whistling. He was alerting Ludvig to his presence.

Ludvig no doubt had heard this as he jumped up without much thought or provocation. With relatively quick ease Ludvig was up and at the door, his tail ‘wagging’ rather fast, which is to say on any normal Artic Fox this would look awkward. However, Ludvig was no normal fox; after all he had been domesticated. It was mere minutes after the whistle had Anders entered through the door. His fresh kill hunched over his shoulder.

Instinctively he looked towards his bed; it was then that he noticed the male he had ‘rescued’ just earlier that morning was very much awake and alive. He was unsure if he should have been happy or disappointed by this. “Awake I see.” He spoke in his native tongue before turning his face from the other and proceeding to lay his kill upon the table with a loud thump/thud.

He supposed that tonight he would make a stew, at least then they could last quite a few days on such a small portion of meat, before he decided to skin and section off his kill he decided to check up the man. Layers of fur were untied and pulled from his own body only to be folded or hung onto a makeshift shelf. “You were out there for quite some time. I am surprised you did not die. You must have great luck about you.”

His words were soft but gentle as he moved closer to the man, his stature towering over the other whom lay upon the fur bed-like futon. Kneeling before the male he held out his right hand using his left to lift the others hands to his so he may inspect them for possible frostbite. “Why were you in winter storm with no shelter?” He questioned aqua hues lifting to the others face as he gave the barest of smiles. “It is no place for men like you.”

He was watching the beast like a hawk. Any moment he suspected the creature would pounce and sink his sharp teeth into his tender flesh. Perhaps he had been subjected to the harsh reality of the cold for too long. He certainly couldn't allow himself to see that the beast looked almost bored in his presence. However, he wasn't so far gone that he didn't know that the foul creature likely belonged to the person who owned this... Whatever it was.. He didn't know what to think. His body may have been well on its way to recovery but his mind felt numb.

Deciding that he could do nothing but wait, he simply lay in his spot, keeping a sharp eye out for any possible threats. He wanted to think that he was in no danger but not being able to recall much of anything was hardly a good sign. And then there were the bitter reminders of the cold. All he could recall was being surrounded by a cold and white abyss. Surely that had to have been real. He could not have been dreaming that. There was a reason for his weakness. It had to be it.

If he had had the strength, his reaction to the sudden whistling that broke through the silence would have matched the beast. Judging by its excitement, he could only assume that its 'master' must have arrived. His limbs stiffened accordingly, unable to help but feel anxious. He didn't know who or what would greet him and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. However, as that was quite out of the question, he would just have to stay alert.

A man entered through the door. A man and his kill. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, he was unsure of what to think. The fact that he was competent enough to hunt and kill spoke volumes and he found himself wondering if this man and his beast worked alone. Is that why the creature had been left behind? To guard him? As if he could escape...

When the man spoke, he felt his brows instinctively furrow in an obvious sign of confusion. Perhaps he had misheard. Either way, he wasn't going to bother with asking him to repeat himself. The manner in which he lay the slain animal down startled him as he flinched visibly, silently cursing himself for daring to reveal any weaknesses before a complete stranger. A stranger who he was at the mercy of, no less.

In his sickly state, he took it upon himself to study this man. Aside from his obvious knack for hunting, there wasn't anything overly savage about him. He had very long hair of a rather rich black shade that created a lovely contrast with the blue-green of his eyes. He didn't know why but those eyes reminded him of something and he couldn't for the life of him remember what that something was. Nevertheless, he felt some of the tenseness leave his body for the time being, only to flare up within seconds of the man speaking to him.

No, he wasn't mistaken. He could not understand this man and the lost look on his youthful face said it all. Despite his confusion, he was forced to take note of the gentle tone the man had chosen to take with him. Perhaps if he had understood the man, he would not be so wary but the suspicions only heightened when the man approached, his limbs practically cracking under his tenseness.

When the man took his hands in his own, tenseness gave way to him being plain perplexed. Just what was this stranger doing? Was this a formal greeting in this part of the world? Wherever they may have been... Either way, he knew he should have jerked said hands away but even if he hadn't been too weak to protest, a rather nagging voice deep inside insisted that he liked this sudden attention. It was certainly an improvement from being guarded by the beast.

He found himself tilting his head when confronted by that faint smile. It was too faint, really, but it didn't fail in reaching him. Whoever this man was, something inside of him wanted to suspect that he was good and that he wouldn't harm him. He had gone to all this trouble to ensure he lived to see another day, what reason could he have to hurt him. Or so he thought to himself as a weak reassurance.

"I do not understand what you say. Why are you holding my hands? Tell me your name." Every syllable sounded strained and hoarse as he bombarded the man with questions. He may have looked like living death but there was a certain demand in his tone that implied he wasn't accustomed to not getting what he wanted and in this case, it was answers.

For a moment Anders lingered too long as the tips of his fingers traced the outer edges of the others own cold hands. It had been a long time since he had experienced the company of another like himself. Aside from wild life he had not seen another soul since his younger years as a mere lad.

When the other started to speak so harsh and strained he closed his eyes realizing just what he was doing and began to work at a quicker past, his body turning on heel as he moved lower down the man’s body and lifted the furs to check his feet. As far as he could tell there were no signs of frost bite, which was odd to him.

Dropping the fur’s he lifted a hand to his chin and rested it cradled. There was no way that this man could have escaped receiving any physical signs of frostbite, he had been in the cold all winter’s night! He looked at the man, nearly cerulean hues lifted to the others facial features in which he began to inspect carefully. While he realized the other could not understand him and him the other he made no outward sign of confusion, he merely stared with a calm look.

After the other had spoken so excitedly even though it was strained he took a moment to think before speaking. He was unsure of what the man asked so he’d have to guess but he assumed it had to do with his actions, their different languages and perhaps his name. It was an educated guess at best, after all if he was in the man’s position he’d be wondering the same things.

His voice was again gentle as he spoke, his hand dropping from his chin and to his chest as he spoke very clearly. “My name is Anders. We found you, brought you here.” All the while he spoke he tried to animate with his hands the words that he spoke, touching himself for when he spoke his name and pointing outside for finding him and then to the bed for bringing him here. He hoped that he was getting through at least a little bit.

“Ludvig,” He turned to his fox and beckoned the other over, pointing to him. “Ludvig found you. You had been out in the cold all night, you have no frostbite. Why?” To emphasis his words about the frost bite he made a sign of shivering for cold and then grabbed the man’s hand once more. His bigger, work calloused hands caressed the others gently, his fingers tip tapping at the tips of the others own fingers.

“No frostbite, why? Who are you? What are you? Do you remember? ” He was sure he looked confused as he spoke about the lack of frostbite as for the last bit he was unsure of how to animate it.

It took a moment but he soon became aware that the man wasn't just out to examine his hands, he seemed hell-bent on examining every bit of him. Judging from his business-like fashion of checking his weak body over, he could come to the conclusion that he hardly had lecherous intentions. On the contrary, his intentions appeared to be quite noble if he wasn't mistaken. Was he some sort of...healer? Would he try and nurse him back to health? It certainly looked that way.

Realizing that the man had understood none of what he said, he knit his thin brows in frustration. Well, at least the man was trying to communicate some way or another. He payed close attention to every movement of his hand, every gesture, every facial expression that would indicate what the man was trying to say. Some of it was easier to catch than the rest but at least it was a start.

"An...ders...?" he repeated slowly, finding that the name sounded strange and foreign on his tongue. The beast's name was no easier to manage and he found himself casting a wary glance in the snow fox's general direction. Perhaps it was domesticated, that didn't mean it was any less dangerous. Wild animals were exactly that, wild and he could have turned on him at any moment. He would continue to keep alert every time the creature would come near.

Refocussing his attention on Anders, he was once again left confused, though it was more of an internal thing. It was a good question. To say that he wasn't affected by the harsh cold would have been a severe lie but better men would not have survived and yet, here he was... Alive and well and completely lacking in frost bite. He didn't really have an answer to that question and shook his head slowly to indicate that he didn't know why.

Even the slightest movement proved to be very dizzying but it was only then that he became aware of one very important fact: he didn't remember anything about himself. His heart seemed to stop beating all together, pupils blown wide as a sudden panic struck his emaciated body. Violent trembling seized control and all reason seemed to leave him. "No, no, no! What is my name? Who am I? You must know. Tell me. Tell me!"

He was frantic now and hardly realized that he was clutching the man's hand in a death grip, another direct contradiction to his weakened state. There was a desperation in his blue eyes as he studied Anders expectantly, squeezing, demanding, pleading for answers. How could he not remember who he was? It made no sense.

He gave the man an affirmative response, nodding his head faintly as the other spoke his name. “Yes, Anders.” While he couldn’t understand the other he was glad that the man could at least understand his name. It gave him some hope that maybe his questions would eventually be answered. While he knew none of his questions would be answered he sighed gently and was intent to keep trying. At least, that was until the man started to become frantic, his body shaking so desperately.

It had not dawned on him that the man may have suffered from amnesia, in actuality he thought that this violent shaking had something to do with Ludvig as the fox grew closer. Without hesitation he turned his head, inky black strands falling over his shoulder in a waterfall effect as he shooed the fox away. “Ludvig go.” The fox’s ears flattened and with a pathetic whine he backed away from the two.

Perhaps Ludvig would understand as Anders began to comfort the unknown man. At first he was unsure how, only that the frantic behavior and violent shakes needed to be stopped. As he sat helpless to do anything for those few moments he remembered one evening when Ludvig had a bad dream, or so he assumed. He gave the fox comforting strokes in which he calmed and later returned to a peaceful sleep. It was the same basic concept right?

As the man grew more desperate in his pleas and his grip tightened around Anders hand Anders did the first thing he could think of. Pulling his hand from the others grip hard he moved a hand to either side of the others face, calloused thumbs moving to caress his cheek as he pulled the other a bit closer.

At this point he was pretty sure it was instinctive because he could not recall thinking of doing this. Nor could he recall the urge to whisper calming things against the others cooler flesh. His lips pressed against the others forehead as he pulled the stranger fully into his grip by now. One hand proceeding to stroke the sunshine strands while the other simply held him.

“Calm down… Calm down… I will help you. I will help you, you mustn’t be afraid.” What the hell was he saying? At this point he did not care; his only priority was to have the other calm and collected as they tried to sort things out. It was his words that he took notice of, his own words. It was like an epiphany. The man could not remember.

“I will help you.” There was a sincerity in his words as he pulled the others head up, a hand on either cheek as he caressed his thumbs against them. He repeated himself, making sure the other would look into his eyes. “I will help.”

If it had been a possibility, he would have been utterly hysterical. Screaming and throwing things would have been the least of Anders' worries but he simply could not muster up the strength to manage. The fit of trembling only seemed to increase as the seconds passed by. All he could repeat over and over again was 'no'. It didn't make a bit of sense. People didn't just come into being out of nowhere. They had families, didn't they? What if he had a family who was worried about him and he couldn't remember? A mother or a father or a brother or sister who were desperately seeking him out. He didn't know much but he did know that wherever he was, it was nowhere near home. Wherever home was.

Banishing the beast did little to nothing in helping to calm him down. His grip never faltered and was only forced to loosen when Anders moved it himself. His struggles were somehow weak and violent at the same time as he shook his head from side to side, not wanting to be reasoned with. He wanted answers and he wanted to remember. He couldn't allow himself to relax. If he slipped into another sleep, he might never have remembered, if there was something to remember.

No. He didn't want to entertain that idea. It was somehow more frightening than not knowing at all.

However, strong as his will may have been, he was powerless to stop from reacting to Anders' touch. He squirmed helplessly, fighting his body's instinctual needs to accept the warmth and comfort it was being offered. "No, no, no," he practically sobbed, trying to push him away, only to wind up failing. The feel of warm lips pressing to his feverish forehead had him hesitating. He didn't know who Anders was and yet, the man was caring for him as though he were some distraught child. Why did this feel so...right? He wanted to continue fighting, wanting to kick and scream and make more demands but Anders was winning. The reassuring voice, the soothing touch but most of all...those eyes. Such beautiful, honest eyes he had never seen.

He didn't know when the tears began, nor did he care. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a shaky little breath, using every last bit of effort he had to place his own trembling hand atop Anders'. "I do not understand you but a part of me knows that you are good. Anders..." Slowly, he reopened his eyes, looking almost surprised. The name didn't quite sound so strange coming from him anymore. In fact, it sounded quite right.

"Anders," he repeatedly softly with a nod of his wearied head, brushing the pad of his thumb over his rescuer's knuckles. Maybe if he believed hard enough, he could convince himself that things would work out.

Things would work out, or at least that is what Anders wanted to believe. His arms wrapped loosely around the stranger’s body as he soothed the man of his worries. After a few minutes or so he wanted to readjust, still having been squatting he instead moved closer, sat and then proceeded to pull the other into his lap.

Had it been under any other circumstances Anders would probably had not care. He would have probably let the man to shiver and plead; but the desperation. Anders was not without humanity and in the back of his mind he would one some stranger to treat him with the same kind of careful gentleness he was showing this one.

At the repeat of his name he became alert and aware, curious as to the man’s needs. It would be hard to communicate with them not speaking the same language. He thought quietly, his one hand running soothing circles against the others back while the free one, or rather now occupied one ran its fingers tips’ through gold strands.

“Yes?” He questioned. He did not expect an answer, however, and so he became silent once more. The sound of the fire’s crackling embers as it died was the only thing heard within the cabin aside from the man’s heavy breathing and the light lapping of water as Ludvig quenched his thirst.

Perhaps the man was hungry, perhaps he was thirsty… Perhaps… It was at this precise moment that he remembered the lack of clothing the other held. Most of it had become to frozen to salvage but then again there wasn’t much to begin with. A heavy blush settled on his cheeks dusting them a deep rose.

Clearing his throat nervously he had begun to wish he hadn’t tried to sooth the others worries because now in his lap sat a very naked man. The only thing that served as any type of clothing was the fur pelt that seemed to cling to the others hips.

“Uhh…” His arms moved to his sides, fingers pressing to the floor as he became wary of the situation, not wanting the other to think he was molesting him or anything along those lines.

“I think I should get you clothing.” The blush still tainted his cheeks but he adverted his eyes to the side, his features stayed calm despite. His hand pointed to the others waist, as he began to look at everything but the stranger in his lap.

When Anders coloured red, he wasn't sure of what to think. It would never have occurred to him that his nudity would make the man uncomfortable. Hell, it had never occurred to him that he was nude. Though, even if he had, he wouldn't have cared. Or, at least not have been as affected as Anders. Perhaps this lack of shame stemmed from something in his past. Something he couldn't remember. Either way, it never crossed his mind and he merely dealt the man a puzzled look.

He wanted to lift his fingers to that kind face and just trace the outline of that healthy flush on the man's handsome face. Noticing that Anders had suddenly decided to drop his hands, a deep frown etched across his pale face as he regarded the man quietly. "What is it?" he rasped, not thinking to get off of him. Not that he could have had he tried. He was too weak. "Have I done something...?"

The simple but foreign statement was followed by Anders averting his eyes as if he couldn't bear to look at him. At first, he didn't understand but all it took was his pointing for him to catch on. He was hardly stupid but he still couldn't entirely comprehend why his lack of clothing would make him react this way. His head tilted to the side slowly, an almost comical look of confusion overcoming the delicate features.

"I cannot dress on my own," he tried to explain, unable to offer much when it came to gestures as the act of simply lifting his arms caused him a great deal of stress. Communicating would not be easy. At least, not in this state. Perhaps when he was fully recovered they could make some real progress. Until then, he was sad to admit that he was fully reliant on this odd but wonderfully kind man with the beautiful eyes.

Anders was unsure why he was acting the way he was, it was bad enough he already took to comforting the other like a Mother to her child… but now this? It was unlike him, a hand lifting to his face to wipe it over the whole of his features. He needed to calm himself.

“I will find something for you.” Letting his arms hesitantly slip beneath the others knees and the other to brace the man’s back he lifted him with ease. Leaning forward very careful of his cargo he’d eventually deposit the stranger back upon the fur pelts before moving to stand. His hands pressing against his knee as he gave a soft grunt. He could feel the tiredness in his joints; it had been a long day… after all.

Turning from the sunshine gold crown he moved across his small hovel, really it wasn’t as tiny as one would think but it was small enough to not be a nuisance and big enough to satisfy his own tastes. He began to shuffle around through random piles, they all looked rather dull in colour and similar in style. He wasn’t much for fancy wear, it existed, just it wasn’t his taste. Stealing a small glance at the stranger he gave him a once over and then stole his eyes back to his task.

He would look wonderful in something fancy, or at least, that is what Anders thought. He had not seen many styles of clothing but once while out finish he caught a glimpse of some noble’s in the area. What country they had come from, he was unsure of but it was their clothing that piqued his brief interest.

The intricacy of their outfits, the colours, the big backs to the women’s clothing. Shaking his head faintly he rid himself of the images. These will do fine, Anders was sure that the other could possibly make anything look fancy. Another brief thought made its way to the surface of his mind. Was the man more ‘beautiful’ when healthy or did he pretty much look the same?

Biting the inside of his cheek he suppressed the thoughts and moved back to the others side. It occurred to him that he did not know the others name and that would do them both no good. Instead he began to think of names he could possibly call the other.

Velvety strands of ink spilled over his shoulder as he leaned down placing a simple shirt and pants besides the others body. He was sure the pants would not fit the other and that perhaps the other would look as if he was wearing an oversized shirt-like dress. He was pretty built, not too big as to be offsetting but lean due to his aggressive years of hunting while the other was thin and sickly. Eventually he would fashion clothes for the other but for now he knew that these would do.

Kneeling before the man he took the shirt in his hand, moving his arms through the arm holes of the shirt he'd let his hands come out the other end, both grabbing the others in their grip. An unconcious shiver shuddered down his spine but was quickly ignored; however, he hesitated in his actions, eyes lifting to eye the others face. Who was this man?

The ease with which Anders lifted him was both comforting and embarrassing. He wasn't sure if his illness had contributed to a significant loss of weight or if he had always been this thin and frail. It was incredibly frustrating, this not being able to remember anything deal. The more he tried, the thicker the fog in his mind grew until he became lost within it. He would have to stop himself before he did some permanent damage to his frazzled mind. He was scared that if he pushed too hard, he too would be lost along with his memories. Then where would they be?

This was, it was his turn to blush, though thankfully Anders was not paying attention to him to have noticed this. He had no right to assume that Anders was a part of this struggle. It was unfair of him to rely on the man to help him recover his past. And yet, he hadn't done anything to dissuade the man when he had taken to calming him down, almost as though he had taken it upon himself to help him. Deep down, he knew it was incredibly selfish, but who else could he turn to? He didn't know where he was or where he could possibly go. Anders was all he had now and if the honesty in those lovely eyes was anything to go by, a part of him knew that this man could be trusted.

Lost within his own thoughts, he barely noticed it when Anders returned to his side, clothes in hand. He blinked several times to regain focus, immediately catching sight of how those impossibly long, dark strands spilled over his shoulder like an inky waterfall. It was perfectly ridiculous but he had the sudden urge to bury his face in the strands. The hair looked so soft and would probably slip through his fingers like fine silk. It occurred to him that Anders was beautiful. He had a kind face that he could have gone on staring at for hours, learning, discovering, perhaps even admiring.

Anders' touch was both purposeful and gentle, as though he were constantly aware and alert to his particular needs. How could a hunter appear to be so thoughtful and cautious around him? Granted, he didn't recall having met any but it was puzzling all the same. A large part of him didn't want him to leave his side. Most of his reasoning was selfish, naturally. He needed protection from the beast and Anders was, well...warm. The other reason was simply a desire to know his rescuer. How old was he? How long had he been on his own? Why did he choose to reside in such a remote land with nothing but snow and loneliness to keep him company? All of these were questions that he would have to struggle to convey and he simply had not the strength to do so. For now, he would have to settle for observing.

The hesitation did not go unnoticed and within moments they had locked eyes. The pale blue irises found the brilliant blue-green and he found himself raising his narrow brows questioningly. "What is it...?" he questioned softly, a light crease in his otherwise smooth forehead making his concern all the more apparent.

The others voice startled him slightly, his eyes widening a fraction before he adverted them back down to his task. Shaking his head he began to finish his appointed task, lifting the others arms up and letting the shirt slide over him.

Tugging at the hem of the shirt slightly he pulled it so that it sat neatly upon the other’s shoulders… Or rather shoulder. It was big on the other, slipping down one shoulder slightly.

Why did he have the urge to hold the other again? Was it his lack of contact for so long that urged his senses to go haywire? Or was there a desperation hidden deep down that only surfaced when he realized how lonely he had been? He let go of a soft sigh as he fingered the pants a moment unsure of how to get them on the other without invading his personal space or privacy. He had completely over looked the others words, after all, he couldn’t understand them to begin with.

Taking the pants into his hands he gave the other a smile, a slight nervousness held beneath it. If he was desperate for company and touch he was afraid of what he might do if given the chance. Mostly, Anders had control of himself so there shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Reaching out he pulled the other into his arms, chest against chest as he began to stand with the man. Carefully he tended to him helping the other finish getting dress, a light rose dusting his cheeks.
He needed to think of a name for the other.

Yes. Frustrating. Very frustrating.

One way or another, he would find a way to break through this language barrier. It would have to wait because he barely had it in him to voice a proper complaint at their unique situation. Not that he wanted to complain. After his first outburst, Anders had truly surprised him with his level of kindness. Was he twisted enough to go to such lengths in order to be held again? He wasn't sure. Desperation had driven people to do things far more terrible than desiring attention. Though, a very faint but insistent voice in his head told him not to take advantage of the man's kindness. Who knew how long his patience could last.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking far too much enjoyment out of something as simple as being dressed. It was almost kind of lecherous of him, this not-so-secret appreciation of having Anders' hands on him. It was as if he had been deprived of human touch for a long time. Was this his body's way of helping him remember? He couldn't say for sure, but this time, he ignored the frustration in favour of reopening his eyes to favour Anders with a fond look.

The shirt was obviously too big for him as one of his slender shoulders lay exposed but he didn't mind at all. A faint bruise coloured the skin of his shoulder slightly purple but as far as he could tell, he felt no pain. At least, not in that area. There was a particular smell to this shirt that he would now associate with his rescuer. It was a terribly intimate idea but he wanted to believe that in a sense, he would be sleeping with Anders all around him. It was an alien feeling, this sensation of security, as though he could rest easy knowing no harm would come to him. It warmed him down to his very toes.

The sigh that was followed by another rare smile had him intrigued. He could read an uncertainty in Anders, as if he too were just as confused by all that was happening. He wanted to pull the man into his arms and whisper thank yous that would never be enough. As far as he could tell, Anders had saved his life. Would he not have been dead if he hadn't found him? Did he not then owe his very life to this man? Was that where this sudden affection stemmed from...? He didn't know and he didn't care. All he knew for sure was that something about Anders struck a chord deep within and he wanted to know him. Was it terrible to almost wish for his recovery to be a slow one? Perhaps. Time was all he needed.

When he was pulled flush against his rescuer, it was his turn to smile, though on his pale face, it looked pained. He could feel the slow and steady rise and fall of Anders' chest with every breath that he took. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, he found himself lost within the magnificent aqua hues that were the man's eyes, once again struck by a nagging familiarity. Why, why, why did those eyes make him feel as though he were missing something?

"You're beautiful," he whispered, voice as strained as ever. He knew Anders wouldn't understand which was precisely why he said it. This was a secret he would keep to himself. For now, anyway.

They stayed like that. Flushed against one another, the heat of each other being passed back and forth. Even after Anders had finished his task he hesitated in placing the other back into place. And when the other spoke to him he furrowed his brow wondering just what exactly he said. Was it to tell Anders to let go, to hurry, he was confused but he could not let that bother him.

Pulling back slightly he started to bend down, laying the other back upon the fur pelted ‘bed’ and returning the ‘blankets’ back over him. The other needed to rest, but at the very least he now knew what he wanted to call the other. “Anton… Anton Leif.”

He spoke gently, almost quietly to the other as he crotched beside him. Pressing a hand to the man’s chest he spoke again but a bit more clearly. “Anton Leif.” As he spoke the second part of the name he let his hand lift to tilt the others head up slightly. He made no more advances; instead he stood while offering the man a faint smile. Bowing his head forward slightly he turned on heels and finally went to tend to his catch. Luckily it was cold and flies did not dwell otherwise part of the meat would have become unusable.

A serrated blade lay upon one of the areas that looked like a counter, his hands claiming the tool as he moved back to his kill. Picking up the lynx deceased body he tossed it over his shoulder once more, patting his thigh with the knife in hand he beckoned Ludvig. Without hesitation the fox moved to the door knowing just what was to happen next.

“I will be outside.” Anders pointed to the world beyond the door, and then back at his kill. He wanted the other to know that he would just be a few little bit away from the home, that he would not leave and would be back.

[Sorry. I know this post is hard to work with but I wasn't sure of what else to do but put him to sleep. D=]

Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part but he noticed that despite having finished in dressing him, Anders hadn't yet decided to place him back down. Was he feeling just as deprived? It was a long way to go from being devoid of all human contact to having to care for someone on such an intimate and physical level. He could only hope that Anders didn't resent this sudden responsibility that had been thrust upon him. One way or another, he would find a way to thank him.

When his back found the deliciously warm furs, he was incapable of suppressing the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth. There was something very endearing about the level of care Anders put into ensuring that he was properly covered. The gesture was almost parental and for the first time he found himself entertaining the idea of this man being a father. Or a husband. Or at the least, an individual who would have someone to care for. Not a hunter in an endless sea of white.

When Anders spoke, he dealt him a questioning look, unsure of what to make of words he didn't understand. The hand to his chest was warm and gentle but his focus was on the man's face as he tried to make sense of what was being said. It took a few moments until it dawned on him that he wasn't uttering words, but a name. A name he didn't recognize. Was it his? Did Anders know who he was? Well, no, that didn't make any sense. Perhaps he was giving him a name. A kind of substitute until he could remember. A part of him didn't want anything to do with it. He wanted to know who he was and as such, desperately wanted to be addressed by his real name and yet, a part of him was undeniably touched that Anders was giving him a name. A name that quelled any fears he may have been harbouring: Anders would not turn him away any time soon. And if Anton Leif was who he wanted him to be, then Anton Leif he was.

"An-...ton," he repeatedly slowly, wanting it to sound as good as it did when his rescuer said it, "Leif...?" His voice wavered a bit too much for his tastes but he was certain that sooner or later, he would grow comfortable with it, though not too comfortable. He didn't want to be someone else for the rest of his life.

When Anders backed away, Anton unknowingly found himself frowning. Of course, he couldn't expect to always have his undivided attention, but it was a shame to see him leave all the same. At least he was kind enough to offer an explanation and Anton made sure to signal that he understood before closing his eyes. Sleeping wasn't something he wanted to do but there was no fighting it. He had worn himself out after that last outburst and his limbs still felt stiff and cold.

The last thing he remembered thinking was how handsome his saviour looked when he smiled before drifting off into a land, far, far away where Anton and Anders did not exist.

[sorry its super long. @ @]

With each movement of the serrated blade he made precise cuts, separating meat from flesh. He could feel eyes on him, the eyes of a predator, of a hungry predator. Ludvig sat next to him, his ears twitching with alertness as his master continued skinning the beast he had killed. Each winter it was the same, each winter they dealt with the same situations; however, each year they were getting clever. Usually the weakest ones would wait until he was finish, always knowing he wasted so much of the beasts he caught but lately they had been getting selfish, attacking in groups of two’s or even three’s and in some cases at different angle’s simultaneously.

In one case Anders almost died, unconsciously he tucked a bit of his hair back his fingertips brushing against the hidden scar just behind his ear. So close. In the aftermath of the event Anders had briefly wondered what would happen if he died, would Ludvig return to the wild no problem. He wondered what he’d do if he survived, what would happen as he grew older? Who would be there to protect him then, who would be there to hunt for him in the winters? A withered old man would be no match for the elements. Shaking his head slightly he cleared himself of his thoughts, having skinned the hide from the lynx he began to section the meats, every once in a while he’d toss a piece to Ludvig who would eat it quickly but stood alert still.

As he filled the back with the fruits of his labor he judged how much more they could take back to his home and how much they’d be wasting. He over stuffed the bag this time, having three mouths to feed now would require more. He contemplated a second trip out, wondering how many beasts would have showed up in his wake to stake claim to the beast. He did not want to risk injury… not when another life depended on him so instead he took more than the leather satchel would have liked to hold. Pulling a pelt from his shoulders he made it into a make shift bag, adding more meat to it. They would need it.

As he finished up he took a moment to pull some leather cording from his body and tie it tight around his makeshift bag. As he got ready to lift it he looked down at the Lynx crouching back down. If Anton would live with him he would have to learn to hunt with him… Anders was hesitant. There was a feeling deep inside him, he would not want to see Anton harmed. He barely knew the man; he couldn’t understand the reasoning for these thoughts. The hilt of his blade coming down hard on the Lynx ribs. He settled for thinking it over but he would not waste this opportunity for good bone to make blades. As such he broke and claimed 5 of the beast’s ribs before tucking them away and heaving both bags of meat over one shoulder. All seemed well so far. He kept his knife in his hands, his grip tight.

“Ludvig follow.” He preferred to keep Ludvig in the back. He would be able to see an attack from the front and the sides but not his back where he was most vulnerable. As the left the area and drew nearer to home he could feel himself flood with a sense of relief, if they had not attacked yet they would not at all. The kill was long behind him by now and putting quickness in his pace he hurried. To be able to store the meat and begin a meal before Anton woke was priority.

Within minutes he was upon his homes stoop, his eyes focused only on the door and not on the creature barreling towards him. It was Ludvig’s ferel growl that snapped Anders out of his clouded thoughts. Too close to home, this was not possible. The creatures were getting bolder now. With the lack of meat in the general area they must be starving. Jumping forward with the bags he barely made it to the stoops edge. The bags tossed before him a bit. So close. His actions were stupid, his grip having loosened on his blade which caused a self-inflicted wound. His eyes narrowed as he felt the heat of his blood on his palm. The beast had missed him but he would make sure he would not miss it. Clutching the blade tightly he heard the sounds of beasts fighting. His eyes widening as he heard Ludvig whimper faintly through a growl. They would not kill Ludvig.

Jumping to his feet quickly he turned. “Ludvig!” The wolf knew this sound well, hopping back from the wild beast and moving to his master’s side. A faint limp in his stride. His angered growls were persistent. “Guard the meal Ludvig I will take care of this.” He refused to have Ludvig deal with the creature. It was bigger than the rest, this wolf larger by far of all those he had seen and he wondered if this was the alpha. Pulling a piece of the newly acquired bone out he held it in his free hand, eyes narrowed dangerously.

It had been an hour later that Anders opened the door to his home, a hurt Ludvig limping in with a gentle whimper. Anders blamed himself, having been selfish this time around he had gotten the artic fox injured. Swinging the bags in with his uninjured arm he’d shut the door behind him. His body leaning against it as he slid down silently. Ludvig’s body collapsing beside him, Anders clutched his shoulder and bowed his head slightly. His long locks falling to hid his face. He screwed up. Looking at his arm he watched the blood seep through the cloth, the claw and bite marks so visible. He took the beast down but would he be able to use his arm again?

Shedding the pelts he wore he grunted in pain, his teeth clenched tight. He would have to work quickly so that he would not worry his guest. But first… After shedding the pelts he moved to Ludvig’s side to check his wound; however, one was not visible. It was then he realized the awkward angle at which Ludvig’s leg sat. Wincing outwardly he felt something he had never felt before. His good hand lifting to his eyes as he felt a wetness cling to them and then move down his cheeks. He was crying.

Anders good hand moved to the wolfs head as he gave the other praise in gentle whispers. Ludvig did well, he was a good companion. After a moment of assuring the wolf, he stood; unfortunately he began to bleed all over the place as he worked quickly to get the fire to burn stronger so that he could boil water to disinfect his own wounds. After he got it to roar good enough he moved to the cloths, finding the bone splints he made from the summer in which his wrist broke. Returning to Ludvig side he began to patch the other up disregarding his own bleeding wounds.

[This is the part where I wish he was a healer and not a destroyer. :B]

What was otherwise a peaceful slumber was quickly disturbed by a very distinct scent. It was a strange thing, for him to awaken as a result of something he smelt rather than something he had heard. It was sharp and metallic and so familiar that his eyes had opened long before he became aware of his consciousness. Whatever that scent was, Anton was drawn to it and he rose from his spot accordingly.

It was like being in a trance. His body shuddered beneath the weight of the oversized clothing as he slowly but surely followed the source of this scent. He had smelled it before, he knew. A victorious feeling threatened to flood his senses, blue eyes wide and gleaming wildly as he halted at the sight of the injured beast and his bleeding master. Bleeding... Blood. That was the source of this wonderful smell. It was blood. Anders' blood. His life was seeping out before his very eyes.

Anton was delighted.

Would the beast succumb to its wound? Would its master follow? Anton didn't know but he sure did care. Perhaps he could have them both? It had been so long since he had last indulged in this. He hadn't taken anyone in ages. It could be so simple and he would bathe in their blood after they were gone.

He reached. Perhaps he would have succeeded in ending everything right there and then. Anders was injured. The beast was injured and yet, when confronted by the sight of those tears, Anton was lost. A sudden wave of confusion topped with nausea swept over him and he nearly toppled to the ground, the world going dangerously dizzy all around him. His gaze was trained on those lovely eyes, brimming with tears. Why was Anders crying and why did it hurt him so much to have to witness it...?

As if awakening from a particularly confusing dream, Anton suddenly became aware of his rescuer's extensive injuries, the bloody trails leaving him pale-faced and alarmed. He cried out in surprise at his stupidity, not at all remembering his carnal urges. "You're hurt," he breathed, shaking his head as though the sight of the wounds were too much to bear, "You're hurt." It was all he could say, unable to find the words or means to do something about it.

It was hard for him to see through the blurriness, his good hand lifting to his face a few times in the midst of his repairs to wipe away the blasted nuisances. It was his fault Ludvig was hurt, his fault that the fox now sported a broken paw.

It pained him to see the fox in pain; he could feel it through his body, in his hair. He could feel his heart clench tightly as if someone was squeezing it of his life. Ludvig was his only companion, his only friend. They had been through so much and to see the beautiful Fox injured was almost unbearable. Wiping his eyes against his fore arm he finally finished splinting Ludvig’s paw still hopelessly oblivious to his own wounds and to Anton’s movement.

Placing his good hand on top of Ludvig’s head he ruffled the Fox’s fur slightly, giving a strained, painful smile. “I am sorry Ludvig,” he said in an almost whisper. “I failed you.” Ludvig’s face moved to nuzzle into Anders hand, his tongue pushing out and licking slightly at Anders hand as if to say he forgave the man, that it was not his fault. Ludvig was reassuring the other that it was not his failure but theirs.

Leaning back slightly Anders let a heavy sigh leave him, his hand dropping to his lap. Anders neglected his own wounds entirely, forgetting about them in his guilt. It was not until Anton spoke that he became startled. His head turning with a speed unlike him, body jumping from being startled which in turn caused the pain in his wounds to flair and his teeth to clench. “Uah… Shit.” His good hand shot to his shoulder as he groaned in pain. Not only did he put Ludvig in harm’s way but now he had begun to worry Anton. Picking himself up the best he could he stood pressing his good hand back to his shoulder before moving to Anton to only pull the man into his body. His good hand pressing against gold strands smoothing them down and he whispered strained coos and soft words of assurance. “It will be okay, I will be okay. Please do not worry.” He spoke to Anton, pulling away from the other slightly to press his hand against the man’s cheek careful not to stain it with blood.

“I will be okay.”

He seemed earnest with his words but his eyes betrayed him as it reflected the pain he felt. Wincing slightly he turned away from Anton, refusing to allow him to see the physical tax the early fight had taken on him. Moving to the boiling water he pulled it from the flames and set it upon the table with the cloth he had prepared only moments ago. Sitting upon a decrepit wooden chair, his back to Anton he moved to dip some of the cloth into the boiling water and then turned it onto his wound to cleanse it. His teeth clenched so tight it seemed that they would shatter, but it was bearable. He would not show any more weakness.

Anton was beyond worried. He couldn't afford to have anything happen to Anders. He was on the fence, somewhere between feeling incredibly selfish and incredibly distraught. On one hand, he knew he wouldn't survive if something were to happen to his rescuer and on the other... Just the thought of this man succumbing to his wounds was unbearable. He felt weak-kneed and sick to his stomach as the strong scent of blood once again flooded his senses. It was an inner battle that Anders would never be aware of.

Another wave of nausea struck Anton as he struggled to keep from vomiting violently. His temples were throbbing something fierce as he battled with himself. No, no, no, he didn't want to hurt Anders. Blood was vile, not something for him to be craving. He didn't know what to think. His mind was spinning wildly out of control with each second that passed by and perhaps he would have done something terribly rash if not for Anders.

It was unexplainable, the effect the man's simple touch could have on him. Anton couldn't even try to understand it but the moment he felt Anders pulling him close, he was lost. His touch was as gentle as ever, deft fingers smoothing over his golden locks in a manner that soothed his very soul. He didn't understand what Anders was saying and yet, somehow he knew the man was trying to reassure him. It was both admirable and stupid of him to think he wouldn't worry. How could he not? All that blood...

When Anders pulled away, Anton found himself nuzzling comfortably into that warm hand before he read the pain in those beautiful eyes. A sudden anger took hold as he dared to chastise his host, even as he turned away. "You cannot lie to me. You must be careful. Do you not understand how simple it is to lose your life to the wild beasts you hunt? What will become of you if you should die out there... No one would find you. I..." He didn't want to continue with that thought.

The state of the animal mattered very little to Anton. He could feel his thin body beginning to sway as the dizziness slowly but surely began to conquer him. Stubborn to a fault, Anton refused to settle himself down. He would not abandon Anders until he was certain that he would be okay. He felt powerless. Utterly useless. He could practically feel his host's pain. Poor man.

"Anders..." he whispered quietly, unsure of what he could possibly do for him. He reached out, his pale, slender fingers moving to thread through the velvet ink that sprang from his host's head. From his current position, he could not witness the pain on Anders' face but boy could he feel it... Anton closed his eyes, the tips of those digits gently massaging over the man's scalp.

He didn’t want the other to worry because if the other worried about him than that meant someone cared… If someone cared about him that the time when he grows old and perishes beneath the claws of his prey, it would hurt them. Anders did not like to hurt people. His head bowed low as he let out a soft sigh, the cloth working against his flesh cleaning him of blood. The wounds weren’t as bad as he originally thought, just very painful.

A chill crept up his spine when fingers pressed against his scalp massaging through his hair, it felt very good but at the same time foreign. He could not understand the gesture, nor if it held any meaning but he could feel himself wanting more of the touch, of that feeling. Who was this man? It was a question he continually kept asking himself. The cloth was dropped to the floor and his hand moved to just behind his head, fingers brushing against the others hand.

“Anton…” Who was this man?

His fingers clenched in a loosely tight grip around the others wrist pulling his hand from behind his head and instead to the side of his head. All the while he tugged the other closer he moved his face into the hand that he pressed open, nuzzling faintly into it.

“Anton… please do not worry.”

He didn’t even know the man; in his head he was questioning himself and his actions. There was no need for him to be acting this way and the more he craved to be closer to the other the more he withdrew into himself reflecting on his reasoning. Each time he came up with the same reasons, after so many years alone, he just craved to be near another human. He needed touch and companionship. Perhaps… Just perhaps Anton was the answer to that.